Escolar Documentos
Profissional Documentos
Cultura Documentos
PHILOSOPHY OF EDUCATION
€
€ Epigraph € x
€ Acknowledgments € xi
€
1 € Introduction—Theory and education € 1
€
5
€ Some preliminary ideas € 36
€ € 5.1 € Introduction € 36
€ € 5.2 € Fundamentality € 38
€ € 5.3 € Information and knowledge € 39
€ € 5.3.1 € Information € 39
€ € 5.3.2 € Knowledge improperly so called € 40
€ € 5.3.3 € Knowledge properly so called € 41
€ € 5.4 € Truth: what we ought to believe € 44
€ € 5.5 € Understanding € 46
€ € 5.6 € Summary € 49
6 € Three accounts considered € 50
€ € 6.1 € P.H.Hirst and the forms of knowledge € 50
€ € 6.2 € Philip Phenix and the realms of meaning € 61
€ € 6.3 € John White and subjective values € 69
7 € The content of a liberal education € 79
€ Introduction € 79
€ € 7.1 € Underlying ideas and assumptions € 80
€ € 7.2 € The integrative idea € 80
€ € 7.3 € The fundamental logical division € 81
€ € 7.4 € The serving competencies € 83
€ € 7.5 € The convenient and pragmatic divisions € 87
7.5.1 € Divisions within inquiries into ‘goings-on’ identified as
€ € themselves manifestations of intelligence
€ 88
7.5.2 € Divisions within inquiries into ‘goings-on’ identified as not
€ € themselves manifestations of intelligence
€ 96
€ € 7.6 € The place of interest € 99
8 € The methods of a liberal education € 103
€ € 8.1 € Introduction € 103
€ € 8.2 € Teaching for evidence € 104
€ € 8.2.1 € Indoctrination € 107
€ € 8.2.2 € Training and practical activities € 109
Contentsâ•… ix
This is what generalising and talking about the past have in common; they are both
departures from that which is present and particular. This common feature is what links
them with rationality. The idea of rationality is that of the ability, given certain present and
particular data, to unite or relate them with other data in certain appropriate ways. This is
the Kantian idea of concepts as unifiers, binders together, creators of a multum in parvo.
Jonathan Bennet, Rationality
In the first place, reasonableness is not exhausted in the exercise of reasoning. A rational
man may well be an intellectual, but he will not be an intellectualist, if this means that
he retreats into his own corner and contents himself with spinning webs. Indeed, to try
to squeeze a normal man into a tiny bed of his own cognitive faculty, and then lop off
whatever will not fit into it, is to stunt him and indeed to kill him…
Secondly, rationality has a far larger field than that of propositions and concepts. It is as
truly at work in judgments of better and worse, of right and wrong, as in those judgments
of analytic necessity to which a narrow convention would confine the name of reason. It
may exhibit itself, for example, in the sanity and good sense with which one appraises the
types of human experience…
Thirdly, rationality extends to reasonableness in conduct. A man would not in our
present sense deserve the name, no matter how clever he was, or how judicious in problems
of value, who was incapable of translating his insights into action.
Brand Blanshard on the rational temper, in Reason and Goodness
Acknowledgments
This attempt to write a modern characterization and defence of liberal education has been
provoked and stimulated by many encounters over the last two decades. Particularly in
conferences and in-service courses with teachers I have frequently been asked to spell
out the overall view of education in which were lodged my particular views on moral
education, the curriculum, appropriate teacher strategies and attitudes, and so on; and this
has always been difficult to do in any brief but satisfactory way. Without these repeated
challenges the book might never have been written.
A second provocation has been the succession of suggestions from politicians and
others in recent years that seem to me to threaten what is most valuable in education.
It has become increasingly necessary for me to make clear to myself why I see certain
educational content and method to be valuable, and the exact nature of the forces and
arguments threatening these values.
In this undertaking my greatest debt is to those who have wrestled with these problems
before me in recent times, especially Paul Hirst, Philip Phenix and John White, all of
whom have had the courage and wisdom, against the spirit of the age, to address the right
fundamental questions and problems. My criticisms of these three writers, liberal educators
all, will, I hope, be seen as a mark of respect for their endeavours rather than the reverse.
I have been helped and encouraged by many friends and colleagues in conversations
directly and indirectly related to what I have written. I would particularly like to mention
Paul Hirst, who kindly read the first four chapters and encouraged me to continue; Michael
Bonnett, David Bridges, Ray Dalton, Patrick Heffernan and Terry McLaughlin, who were
kind enough to comment on parts of Chapter 6 for me; and John Beck who gave me much
wise advice and also read and commented on Chapters 9 and 10. For this and a great deal
else I am grateful to my Cambridge colleagues. They are not, of course, to blame for what
I have done with, or in spite of, their advice.
I am indebted to the Principal, the Trustees and the Academic Board of Homerton
College for releasing me from my teaching duties for one term in 1982 and another in
1983. Without this generous release, and the readiness of colleagues to undertake some of
my duties, I could not have produced the book.
I am grateful to the following publishers for permission to use the extensive quotations
from their copyright works in my Chapter 6: Routledge & Kegan Paul for quotations
from Paul Hirst’s ‘Knowledge and the Curriculum’, and for quotations from John White’s
Towards a Compulsory Curriculum’; McGraw-Hill for quotations from Philip Phenix’s
‘Realms of Meaning’.
1
Introduction—Theory and education
Since the aim of this work is to present a comprehensive and coherent theory of liberal
education it is important to be clear in what sense I am talking about theory.
The word ‘theory’, like many other useful words in our language, has more than one
meaning. Some of these meanings are plainly derogatory. For example ‘theory’ can mean
‘an unproved assumption’ or a ‘mere idea’, and there could be little to say about theory if
this was all there was about it. We do not have to look far, however, to see that when we
talk about bodies of ideas like the wave theory of light, the theory of radioactive decay,
or the special theory of relativity, although there is a sense in which we are talking about
assumptions, we are certainly not talking about mere ideas or lightly held assumptions.
We are talking rather about carefully worked out and internally coherent bodies of ideas
that seem to explain observed phenomena over a wide range of experiences. Although not
verified beyond any peradventure of doubt, these theories enable us to make reasonable
predictions and have not been refuted, though critically probed in many ways.
There are two important points to note about these scientific or explanatory theories.
Firstly, they are not, as is sometimes supposed, derived from some piling up of observations
until a theory emerges. They are, instead, the result of imaginative and creative ideas on
the part of a Newton, a Rutherford or an Einstein about how things might be. Only then
can propositions be deduced from the theories which we might try, as Karl Popper1 has
indicated, to refute. The theory stands as an explanation in so far as we fail to refute it. The
theory is, to use Popper’s language, the unrefuted conjecture.
The second point to notice about scientific theories of this kind is that it would be arrant
nonsense to say of such a theory, ‘It is all right in theory but not in practice.’ This would
be nonsense because a failure in practice would amount to refutation. Einstein’s general
theory of relativity, for example, provided propositions about the motion of the perihelion
of Mercury, about the deflection of light in a gravitational field and about the displacement
of spectral lines towards the red, all of which provided opportunities for refutation. Had
the propositions not been found to fit practice in the sense of practical observation, then the
theory would not have been all right but would have been discarded, however elegant the
internal coherence of the mathematics might have been.
I do not want to claim that an educational theory, least of all the theory of liberal education
to be advanced in this work, is a scientific theory in this sense. All I am concerned to
show at the moment is that here is one quite respectable sense of ‘theory’ which anchors it
securely alongside a particular kind of practice.
Another sense of ‘theory’ sees it as related to practice in another way, and since this
is the sense in which I am using the term ‘theory’ in the expression ‘a theory of liberal
education’ I must try to spell it out as carefully as possible. The sense I have in mind is a
combination of the two following meanings from ‘Webster’s International Dictionary’:
2â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
(i) the body of generalisations and principles developed in association with practice in a
field of activity, and
(ii) a belief, policy or procedure proposed or followed as the basis of action.
It will be seen that both of these meanings attach theory clearly to practice and action and
that two complementary ideas are blended together. In the first the idea is that of principles
or rules developed together with the practice of an activity, say medicine, jurisprudence or
education; and in the second there is the idea of the body of beliefs or principles guiding
the practice or action. The two ideas are superficially contradictory in that one seems
to derive theory from the practice whilst the other might be seen as imposing theory on
the practice. This would be to oversimplify, however, since reflection does show that the
two ideas appear to co-exist in theories of practice. In medicine, for example, the actual
practice produces knowledge about the body, about disease, the effect of drugs and surgical
practice and technique. Reflection on the practice raises problems, not only those requiring
laboratory-based research but also those of an ethical or valuative kind not susceptible to
scientific enquiry. The body of knowledge and valuative attitudes so gained in turn guides
practice and can be studied by student practitioners. Not all of the rules and principles
so studied are of a factual, cause-effect kind, though in medicine many of them are. The
important point is that there is an inter-play of practice and reflection upon the practice,
with the reflection becoming more structured, systematic and sophisticated as the body of
knowledge, and the literature in which it is embodied, grows.
Theory in this sense is not so much explanatory, as in the case of scientific theory, rather
it is systematic reflection for a purpose, the continual characterization, delineation and
guidance of a practical activity. The idea that theory, especially educational theory, has a
guiding function, has of course been indicated by others. Paul Hirst, for example, in a well
known paper has written:
Educational theory, like political theory or engineering, is not concerned simply with
collecting knowledge about certain practical affairs. The whole point is the use of this
knowledge to determine what should be done in educational practice.2
It is the theory in which principles, stating what ought to be done in a range of practical
activities, are formulated and justified.3
What has not been so commonly noted is that such a reflective theory of practice from
time to time re-defines, re-characterizes, the practice itself. This is certainly true of
educational theory, where what counts as education, or what makes a practice educational
rather than non-educational is one of the questions continually reflected upon and calling
for imaginative conjecture. People like Froebel, John Dewey and A.S.Neill do not simply
perceptively describe the existing educational practice of their time, nor yet do they merely
inform and guide such practice, what they do is to set out to recast that practice, reformulate
it along more justifiable lines. Such thinkers have not just told teachers how they might
better achieve agreed ends, they have questioned the ends and proposed different ones.
Introduction—Theory and educationâ•… 3
Educational theory, then, in the sense used here, is inescapably linked with practice.
It cannot be the case that the theory is all right only to fail in practice since the proper
relationship to practice is the test on which the theory stands or falls. It is very important,
however, that the relationship of such a theory to practice is not misunderstood and some
possible (indeed common) misunderstandings must be noted.
(i) It does not follow from the idea that theory must properly relate to practice that a
theory is false or bad if it cannot be implemented without disturbing in some way present
practice. Mixed-ability grouping, for example, is not shown to be a false or bad theoretical
idea simply because it cannot be effectively managed with normal methods of class
teaching, since the theory normally carried the accompanying idea that existing methods
of teaching should be disturbed. All this is a consequence of the guiding and/or re-defining
nature of educational theory. As mentioned above, educational theory might tell us how
better to achieve ends already agreed upon, but it might also tell us what is wrong with
the ends we are setting and why and how they might be bettered. There is much confusion
in the interpretation of educational research because of a failure to distinguish between
arguments as to ends and arguments as to means. Relatively straightforward experimental
techniques and correlation studies can usefully inform us about preferable methods if the
desired end is clear and agreed, and if the desired end does not change as the method
changes, and if non-relevant variables can be avoided in the experimental comparisons.
This essential clarity is rarely met with in educational research, however, partly because of
the difficulty of controlling variables, but more importantly because there is nearly always
a different attitude to ends implicit in the adoption of different methods. Consider, for
example, the following pairs of contrasts.
Any teacher familiar with these juxtapositions will know that they involve not only differing
methodologies, arrangements and techniques, but differing views or conceptions of what
the enterprise is supposed to be about. Setting and mixed-ability grouping, for example,
are not just two opposed ways of achieving the same end, where one might be shown
experimentally to be the better; they are two different conceptions of what should be going
on in the education of children and young people. The issue between them is not therefore
to be determined solely, or even perhaps at all, by experimental and statistical methods of
investigation, but by a much more complex comparison of valuative positions backed by
some kind of philosophical—ethical, conceptual, logical—argument.
Where a theory, in this sense, characterizes or re-characterizes a practice, then by
implication it defines or re-defines what is to count as a skill or a successful method within
the practice. The test is still in the practice, but not necessarily in the existing practice.
4â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
(ii) It does not follow from the idea that theory must properly relate to practice that the
substance of the theory, and changes to the substance of the theory, must only derive from
inside the practice itself. There is no reason why ideas influencing the practice should
not come from outside the practice, from any appropriate bodies of disciplined thought
or even from other practices. Of course such an influential idea, discovery or argument
can come from within the practice upon which it bears, but it does not have to. A doctor
in general practice can have such an idea or make such a discovery, but so can a bio-
chemist or even a metallurgist. A teacher can have an idea influencing educational theory
and thereby educational practice, but so can a philosopher or a psychologist. Ad hominem
arguments against a theoretical point on grounds of the inadequacy of the protagonist’s
teaching experience are common in the educational world, as is the ad populum argument
that something should be done because it is fashionable. Both are clearly fallacious. All that
should count is that the theory should be clear as to the kind of propositions being urged:
whether they are, for example, conceptual or ethical recommendations or scientific, and,
further, that the appropriate kind of justificatory argument should be offered or relevant
criteria of falsifiability should be indicated where the claims are allegedly scientific.
(iii) It does not follow from the idea that theory must properly relate to practice that
the only appropriate tests of a theory are those seeking to refute it in practice. Such tests
are appropriate for theories or parts of theories claiming to be scientific, that is, theories
claiming to state how things are. Examples of such theories, not necessarily true, would be:
(a) Children are encouraged to learn by the promise of extrinsic rewards.
(b) Punishment has an alienating effect, especially on adolescents.
(c) Clever pupils make slower progress in mixed-ability groups than equally clever
pupils in groups of relatively similar ability.
Such tests are not appropriate, however, for claims seeking to guide or re-define practice
which make no claim to be scientific. Claims like:
(d) Liberal education should involve the development of the rational mind in whatever
form it freely takes.
(e) Education should always involve initiation into what is worthwhile and be concerned
with knowledge and understanding.
(f) Teachers should respect their pupils as persons.
It is clear that (a), (b) and (c) differ from (d), (e) and (f) in that the first three claim to state
what is the case, whilst the second three are all about what ought to be the case. Both kinds
of claim or theory guide practice but they do this in two different ways.
The kind of facts claimed in the first three examples guide practice by telling us (if
true) what happens if we do certain things. They do not tell us, of course, that we have to
do that thing. To know that children are encouraged to learn by the promise of extrinsic
reward, for example, does not in itself mean that I should, as a teacher, promise my pupils
extrinsic rewards. There might well be other considerations. It does not even tell me that
I should promise extrinsic rewards to my pupils if I want them to learn, since there may
be other, more desirable ways of encouraging my pupils to learn. There are, therefore, two
appropriate considerations about factual claims, or what we might call fact theories: firstly,
how can they be tested for falsity and, secondly, in what way should they influence my
action? Educational research has tended to be dominated by the methodology of statistics
Introduction—Theory and educationâ•… 5
and experimentation necessary for answering the first question, and all too little attention
has been given to the important but quite different requirements of the second question.
The second question, indeed, moves into the area of the type of theory exemplified by
(d), (e) and (f) above: the type of claims, or value theories, as to what ought to be, or should
be, done. It is this type of theory that cannot be tested by the statistical and experimental
techniques appropriate to scientific or factual claims. This type of theory is about what is
to be held important, significant and valuable; about what we should do, not in the sense
of what causes us to do things, but in the sense of what reasons we present to ourselves
as justification for doing things. There is a sense in which all such theories are ultimately
moral in nature. A theory of liberal education, for example and to anticipate what is to
follow, must make and justify a number of valuative claims before it can get anywhere near
seeking factual theories to help it. We need to claim, for example:
(i) children should be liberally educated, and
(ii) liberal education should take such and such a form, have such and such aims, satisfy
such and such criteria,
and to argue such claims, justify such claims, before we are in a position to see what factual
information or claims may or may not be relevant.
Such arguments will of necessity be conceptual, logical and philosophical. A theory of
this kind can only be tested by its internal coherence and consistency and by its coherence
with other values we accept, especially those about persons characterized as creatures
who reason and value coherence, consistency and justification. I do not believe myself
that this makes such theories mere matters of opinion when compared with the theories
susceptible to statistical and experimental testing. Critical probing for coherence and
logical consistency is a rigorous, rule-governed activity. Some theoretical structures and
prescriptions are more coherent than others and can be shown to be so. In any case, there
would appear to be no other grounds on which we can rationally choose between one value
theory and another, between one advocated course of action and another. If fact theories,
as I have claimed, can never in themselves tell us what to do in education, and if value
theories are to be thought of as merely arbitrary acts of commitment, then however much
the statistics and experiments are multiplied, our acts and decisions would be ultimately
non-rational.
I have tried to indicate in this section that a theory of liberal education can be a rationally
justifiable theory, but that to be such it must be a critical value theory whose appropriate
tests are those of coherence and consistency. Theories of this kind relate to practice, and
would be worthless without such a relationship, but they relate to it in a special kind of way.
There is perhaps one other point that needs to be made about theories claiming to guide
action and practice before leaving this introduction. Action-guiding theories do not have to
be proven with the certainty attributed to, say, mathematics, and I have already said that in
large part they are not to be tested for truth or falsity in the same way as scientific theories.
In seeking to be guided by the most consistent and coherent justificatory framework the
rational temper requires that we hold our views at any one time critically, that is, subject to
change if we can better them in terms of consistency and coherence; but the rational temper
also requires that at any given time we are prepared to act on the justifications or reasons
that present themselves to us at that time as the best. The twin dangers are, on the one
6â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
hand, ceasing to care about justification and only valuing decisive action, and, on the other,
losing the will to act in a vain search for the perfect justification. It sounds like a clever
philosophical trick to say that anyone who asks, ‘Why bother about justification?’ is already
bothered about justification, but it is nevertheless a profound truth. One can, of course,
simply not bother about justification, but you cannot argue for such a happy abandonment.
Similarly, one can, as a matter of fact, not bother about consistency and coherence, but
you cannot argue for such a rejection. To attempt to argue either of these positions is
already to play the justificatory game where the necessary ground rules are consistency and
coherence. Rationality does not require, then, that in practical matters like education we act
only on theories held to be completely proven, whatever that might mean;but rationality
does require that we act on a systematically related body of beliefs justified by us as the
most consistent and coherent we can arrive at. Indeed, at any given time we might not even
be able to act directly or properly on the basis of an accepted theory because many things
have to be changed to make such direct action in accord with the theory possible. Our theory
is like an ideal. It directs us in our resisting and in our cooperating; and how anyone knows
quite what to resist and what to support without such an ideal or theory puzzles me greatly.
Teachers, then, if they see themselves as general and liberal educators, rather than the
hired instructors of specific and limited vested interests based on economics or politics,
have need of a theory of liberal education of this critical value kind. The rest of this work
seeks to construct such a theory.
part I
Justification of
Liberal Education
2
Education and its justification
3.1 Introduction
If education in its broadest and least controversial sense is to be thought of as facilitating the
development of others, usually the young, in some worthwhile way, as I have claimed, then
clearly there can be many kinds of assisted development all quite properly called education
in some qualified way. I want to claim that a liberal general education is a special kind of
education having characteristics and justifications of its own which distinguish it from
all other kinds of education. I shall not in this chapter spell out all these characteristics,
justifications and distinctions, for all that will occupy several chapters. I must say enough
here, however, to separate the idea of a liberal general education from all other kinds of
education. The basis of the division is clear and simple; it is the implications that are
complicated and will need expansion and explanation in further chapters.
3.3.4 Reason
My final assertion, in a sketch of a liberal general education, was that all of the above is
best facilitated by a central concern with reason, by what Professor Hirst has called ‘the
development of the rational mind’.6 One can accept Professor Hirst’s general point here
Types of educationâ•… 19
without necessarily wanting to agree with all that he makes follow from this, or, indeed, to
agree entirely with his account of what constitutes having a rational mind.
Part of the general point is that it is only reason that can liberate one from the present
and the particular. There is a sense in which to be able to refer some immediate stimulus to
memory, to imagination, to anticipation of consequences, to relevant rules and principles
and information that can be brought to mind and then decide how to respond, is both to be
rational and to be liberated from the restrictions of immediate stimulus-response reactions.
To point this up by contrast this is just what feelings and allied affective states cannot do. To
act on feeling alone is to react: to be trapped in a particular response immediately following
a particular feeling. The intuitive ideas that we are swept by emotion, that we lose our
temper, are overcome by feeling, and so on are all indications of the idea that it is only reason
that can free us from the compulsion of immediate reaction if it is sufficiently developed.7
There is a peculiarity about reason that is associated with the idea of autonomy. For
me to act on reason or to hold a belief on reason, that is to act or believe rationally, the
reason must be my own. I must come to see for myself why it is right to believe this or do
that. On the other hand, for me to believe or act on reason is not simply to do or believe
what I like. The oddity here is that reason must originate and operate in individual minds
yet also operate on rules and principles that go beyond individual minds because they are
publicly shared. To be rational is partly to operate an individual skill or corpus of skills, but
also partly and importantly to become initiated into public bodies of knowledge in which
statements gain meaning by their location within clusters of other statements related in
publicly organized ways and tested for truth in publicly organized ways.
This is the other part of the general point made by Professor Hirst that one is bound
to agree with. To develop a rational mind is to come to be able to reason, to know and to
understand, within a limited number of different ways in which true propositions can be
publicly articulated. Hirst has suggested the forms that these different ways of knowing
might take, but the significance of his general thesis can be accepted without necessarily
agreeing with his specific suggestions. The point I want to stress here is that there is a
strange public-private link in the life of reason and both poles have to be developed in a
liberal education. There is reason to believe that the public side of knowledge has been
overemphasized in both theoretical writing and in the practical activities of schools, whilst
what I am calling the private side, the side of the individual knower or reasoner, has been
neglected. We must return to this, but at this stage of the argument at least one can agree
wholeheartedly with Hirst when he says:
Liberal education, then, achieves through the development of reason the liberation from the
present and the particular; it focuses upon the fundamental and the generalizable; and it has
concern for the intrinsically worthwhile rather than for the solely utilitarian.
4
The justification of liberal education
4.1 Introduction
In Chapter 2 it was argued that it did not make sense to talk of justifying education as such,
partly because we already build into the notion of education the idea of some worthwhile,
that is to say justifiable, influence being exerted upon someone’s behaviour and beliefs.
There is something odd about seeking a justification for exerting a justifiable influence!
Nevertheless, it was also argued that when we claim that an influence is worthwhile we need
to show that it is worthwhile, and this is where justification comes in. Thus justifications
will vary according to the kinds of worthwhile influences that are embodied in various
kinds of education. In particular justifications called for in education of a vocational,
utility or instrumental type will differ, not only one from another, but collectively from the
justification required for a liberal general education.
Justifications for any kind of instrumental education will be of three kinds: firstly, the
justification of the end to which the instrumentality is directed; secondly, a demonstration
of the efficiency or effectiveness of the proposed education in preparing people for the
justified activity, profession or whatever; and thirdly, some consideration of the likelihood
of the person being prepared actually ever engaging in the justified activity, profession or
whatever it is that he is being prepared for. For example, I justify engaging John Brown in
a particular form of medical education if I can show:
(a) the general desirability of practising medicine;
(b) that this particular form of education will effectively prepare someone to practise
medicine; and
(c) John Brown is likely to practise medicine if successfully medically educated.
I propose to say no more about justifying instrumental education here except to note that
one of the main reasons for not engaging pupils in ordinary schools in vocational education
is the difficulty of satisfying the third condition of justification. We just do not know,
in most cases, what type of vocational preparation any one pupil really needs. This is a
simple, but vitally important, consideration if we are not to engage in a shocking waste of
pupils’ time and a deplorable betrayal of wrongly engendered expectations.
We say selection. The other theories say that too, as all theories must. Where, then, do
we differ from them? In this: whereas they say that selection must be made with an eye
to utility, or to classless society, or to conformity with faith, or what not, we say that
the selection must be made with an eye to understanding what the world is like. Such
understanding is the goal that the impulse to know is seeking from its inception. It is the
only end that leaves the mind free; it is therefore the natural end of what we call ‘liberal’
education.1
Blanshard here hits the nail on the head. There is an unavoidable connection between
the valuation of liberty and the valuation of knowledge and understanding for their own
sake—‘the only end that leaves the mind free’—and we find Professor Hirst striking the
same note when he urges that liberal education should be considered as the development of
the rational mind in whatever form that freely takes.2
The second question as to the connection between fundamental knowledge and
understanding and particular choices and activities that it might underlie is perhaps best
answered with some examples. I shall give four brief examples in an attempt to mark the
distinction and the relationship.
Figure 4.1
More significant was what happened when each class was asked to find the areas not only
of parallelograms of different sizes, but also of shapes such as those in Figure 4.2. Shape 1,
of course, is simply a parallelogram drawn in another position, but even here some of the
group taught by rote formula had difficulty in seeing that the formula applied to this shape
as well. Most of the ‘discovery’ group, however, made ready application of what they had
discovered, not only to shape 1, but also to shapes like 2 and 3 which are clearly subject to
the same fundamental principle.
What had happened here was that whilst the first group had learned a specific rule
applicable to very specific content, or at least perceived as so limited, the second had
learned a principle of some generality applicable to a wider range of content. In being more
fundamental the principle was more useful, more general than the specific rule. Principles
are higher level rules of greater generality of application than the rules subsumed under
them. Principles help to gather masses of specific detail and example into graspable and
manageable clusters of thought. In a word, principles help us to understand. To learn by
learning principles is not just to learn the same content by a different method, it is actually
to learn a different content for a different purpose. To learn principles is directed to the end
of understanding the human situation for basically no other reason than the worthwhileness
The justification of liberal educationâ•… 25
Figure 4.2
of understanding as against not understanding. Once again we meet the idea that aiming
for the intrinsically worthwhile rather than the more immediately useful nevertheless gives
us the greater utility.
Different approaches to moral education point to the same contrast between rules and
principles. One can be taught a strict code of rules, something like the ten commandments,
only to find that one cannot apply them to all circumstances without contradiction.
Understanding normative interpersonal relationships and human action in terms of more
general principles, however, like respecting persons or loving one’s neighbour, enables
more flexible responses and a greater framework of understanding at the same time. Again
this is a matter of content and method together; and, again, what is intrinsically worthwhile,
understanding persons and their relationships, turns out to have the widest and most general
relevance and utility. As Brand Blanshard has pointed out, moral principles turn out to
have a much more universal usage and validity than relativists like Westermarck, who
concentrated on diversity of rules and customs, could have supposed.4
If the achievement of knowledge is necessarily the development of mind in its most basic
sense, then it can be readily seen that to ask for a justification for the pursuit of knowledge
is not at all the same as to ask for the justification for, say teaching all children a foreign
language or making them orderly and punctual in their behaviour. It is in fact a peculiar
question asking for justification for any development of the rational mind at all. To ask
for the justification of any form of activity is significant only if one is in fact committed
already to seeking rational knowledge. To ask for a justification of the pursuit of rational
knowledge itself therefore presupposes some form of commitment to what one is seeking
to justify. Justification is posssible only if what is being justified is both intelligible under
publicly rooted concepts and is assessable according to accepted criteria. It assumes a
commitment to these two principles. But these very principles are in fact fundamental
to the pursuit of knowledge in all its forms, be it, for instance, empirical knowledge or
understanding in the arts. The forms of knowledge are in a sense simply the working out of
these general principles in particular ways. To give justification of any kind of knowledge
therefore involves using the principles in one specific form to assess their use in another.
Any particular activity can be examined for its rational character, for its adherence to these
principles, and thus justified on the assumption of them. Indeed in so far as activities are
rational this will be possible. It is commitment to them that characterises any rational activity
as such. But the principles themselves have no such assessable status, for justification
outside the use of the principles is not logically possible. This does not mean that rational
28â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
pursuits in the end lack justification, for they could equally well be said to have their
justification written into them. Nor is any form of viciously circular justification involved
by assuming in the procedure what is being looked for. The situation is that we have here
reached the ultimate point where the question of justification ceases to be significantly
applicable. The apparent circularity is the result of the inter-relation between the concepts
of rational justification and the pursuit of knowledge.
Perhaps the finality of these principles can be brought out further by noting a negative
form of the same argument. From this point of view, to question the pursuit of any kind
of rational knowledge is in the end self-defeating, for the questioning itself depends on
accepting the very principles whose use is finally being called in question.
It is because it is based on these ultimate principles that characterise knowledge itself
and not merely on lower level forms of justification that a liberal education is in a very real
sense the ultimate form of education.6
One thing that it is important to be clear about in trying to decide whether this justification
works or not is exactly what it is we are trying to justify. If the question posed is ‘Why
be rational?’, then the argument clearly works. The question has no point if the value of
rationality is not presupposed, and is indeed seen to be an odd question as soon as one
reflects about it. Hirst, however, tries to make the argument do much more work than this.
He proposes two fundamental principles of justification, i.e. that what is being justified
is intelligible under publicly rooted concepts and also assessable according to accepted
criteria. I take this to mean that once we undertake justification there are certain rules of
reason, of language and logic, that must be accepted because that is what justification is.
This too one can readily accept and if the question asked is something like ‘Why bother
with the rules of reason when we seek justification?’ or ‘Why must justification be rational
justification?’ the answer is clearly that the rules of reason must be presupposed to give
intelligibility to such questions. So far, so good.
But Hirst pushes the argument still further, for he says that ‘to question the pursuit of any
kind of rational knowledge is in the end self-defeating, for the questioning itself depends
on accepting the very principles whose use is finally being called in question.’ There is
a move from the general to the particular here that rouses our suspicions, for we move
from the general idea of rationality itself and its fundamental principles to the particularity
of any kind of rational knowledge. If this merely means that questioning whether any
kind of knowledge should be pursued rationally rather than irrationally is self-defeating
then again the argument is clearly sound. But this is not quite what is said. If it means
that the pursuit of any kind of rational knowledge is justifiable because of the necessary
presupposition of reason in questioning it, then surely this is false. For example, the pursuit
of knowledge about ways of inflicting pain on people, however rationally engaged in,
can surely be questioned without the question being self-defeating or contradictory. Or,
again, we might question the advisability of pursuing further our undoubtedly rational
knowledge of how to make nuclear weapons without being hoist by the petard of our own
presuppositions. This is not an appeal to something other than reason, or beyond reason,
but only a reminder that presupposition or transcendental arguments only work at the level
of highly generalizable principles. We cannot logically question the value of rationality, or
the principles of justification, but we can, without contradiction, question the advisability
The justification of liberal educationâ•… 29
of pursuing specific kinds of rational knowledge. All we have to do is show good reasons
why not; to show better reasons, that is, than any that can be produced for pursuing the
particular knowledge, or engaging in the particular activity.
What exactly does Hirst’s argument justify in respect of a liberal education? There is little
doubt that if I am talking about self-education then the transcendental argument applies.
This can be put at three levels: if I ask myself justificatory questions (What ought I to do?
How ought I live? How should I develop myself?) then I am committed by the very asking
to the adoption of rational principles in answering. This could be pushed further to embrace
my commitment to the development of my rational mind if I ask justificatory questions.
The most general extension of this kind of argument would be to say that I am committed
to developing my mind in such forms of knowledge and understanding as I believe to be
fundamentally constitutive of a rational mind if I ask justificatory questions or if I claim in
any way, even if only to myself, to value rationality. In other words, if I ask justificatory
questions I am committed to rationality, if I am committed to rationality I am committed to
being as rational as possible, and this means developing my rational mind as well as I can.
The justification we are seeking, however, is the justification that bears upon whoever
decides what a national system of education is to be like. At the present stage of the
argument it is an unanswered question who that should be. In the United Kingdom at the
time of writing the decision lies uneasily and in a not very determinate way with the central
government, local government and the actual head teachers and assistant teachers in the
schools. Can the transcendental form of argument be used to justify the beliefs and actions
of people responsible for the education of others rather than themselves?
It would seem that it can to some extent, but the problem might again be one of how
far it can be pushed. A person responsible for the education of others (let us ignore how
or why for the moment) is bound to ask what kind of education should be provided and
such questioning is only of point if it supposes there to be reasons for providing one
kind of education rather than another. This, in turn, presupposes a valuation of reason.
So far we are following the Hirstian style of argument: the education-provider, asking
himself what he should provide, is committed to proceeding rationally. But, even if he
does proceed rationally, will his reason, must his reason, necessarily tell him to provide a
liberal education of the kind Hirst describes or I have described. Might he not say, in an
underdeveloped country for example, ‘I know what a liberal education based on reason
is, but in the present circumstances of my country the rational policy is to concentrate our
education firstly on basic literacy and secondly on the vocational preparation of technicians
and administrators’? Clearly there could be countervailing reasons against providing a
liberal education such that the provider would not be in breach of his own valuation of
reason in heeding them. This is not made clear in Hirst’s s account but it has important
consequences for anyone seeking to justify the provision of a liberal education for all. It
would have to be shown, for example, that possible countervailing arguments do not apply
in the case under discussion.
The basic reason why Hirst’s use of the transcendental argument fails is because in the
form he gives it the argument is always self-referenced. What I mean by that is illustrated
by my earlier remarks about the argument working if I use it to apply to my own education
or development: if I respect reason I ought to develop my own rational mind in all its forms.
But what if I am seeking to justify what I should do to others, or get others to do to others?
30â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
Of course, if they already value reason I can demonstrate by using the transcendental or
presupposition argument that they are already committed and must welcome my proposals
for a liberal education; but if they are not committed already to the valuation of reason then
they are not committed to a liberal education and have no reason to accept the pro posals that I
or Professor Hirst might make. Of particular relevance to this point, of course, is that pupils
or potential pupils can hardly be thought of as already committed to the valuation of reason.
What I have to do, therefore, as one asking the question ‘What education should I try
to provide for others?’ and where the described form of a liberal general education is one
of the possibilities, is certainly to answer the question as rationally as possible. Doing this,
however, will always involve a consideration of possible countervailing arguments with
the honest supposition that in some circumstances they might prevail, and should always
involve more positive arguments of an ethical nature about why I should seek to influence
the beliefs and actions of others one way rather than another.
Although this is clearly to say that the justification of a liberal education cannot rest
on the transcendental or presupposition argument alone, at least in the strong sense of
‘justification’ used here, it is not to say that this form of justificatory argument is unimportant
or has no place at all in a theory of liberal education. It is of considerable importance to
note, as Hirst does, the inevitable connection between the ideas of justification on the one
hand and rational knowledge on the other. To enter into rational knowledge is to enter into
the business of justifying assertions; to enter into justification is to enter into the business of
rational knowledge; there is therefore an oddity about seeking a justification for engaging
in rational knowledge. About all of this Hirst is, I believe, quite right. Since, as I shall try to
show later, part of the methodology of a liberal education is to get pupils to see and accept the
bindingness of such necessary connections, and since, as I have said, the argument does work
for those who accept the valuation of reason, then liberal educators will in a sense be trying
to get their pupils to accept this kind of valuation and this kind of justification. They must,
however, engage in the exercise before this comes about, and they must accept that for some,
perhaps many, this ideally and intrinsically motivating understanding will never be reached.
They therefore need positive accompaniments to the transcendental argument, partly of the
kind already urged in Section 4.3, and partly of the ethical kind to follow in the next section.
Thus, given that liberal education, as an initiation into the basic public forms of human
understanding, so fundamentally affects the development of significant and distinctive
modes of human action, I think the right to education may justifiably be stated somewhat
more precisely this way: Everyone has the right to participate in liberal education at the stage
of general initiation and to be provided with whatever conditions will enable him to do so
to the full extent of his capacities and interests. The claim that this right makes on political
authority is not, of course, one that can be exhaustively satisfied…. As a human right,
however, it is not simply suggesting what would be desirable, but asserting that political
authorities principally have a basic moral obligation to promote the ideal as fully as they can.7
What really matters, then, is that some people, political authorities or others, are alleged
to have a moral obligation, a moral duty, to provide and facilitate the liberal education of
young members of the national community. It is the source of this moral obligation that
needs explicating, and it is precisely this that Hirst’s presupposition argument, at least in
the form in which it is presented, fails to do. So, of course, does the general utility form
of argument in 4.3, since even if it is accepted that a liberal education of the type briefly
described does have a profoundly general utility it can still be asked why all the children of
a country should be provided with such a generally useful education. A moral argument is
32â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
required to transfer the presupposition argument from self-reference to other-reference and
to under-pin the general utility argument.
Such a moral argument might run as follows:
A commitment to the rational life does not only imply a disposition to justification in
terms of knowledge and understanding but also, and importantly, a disposition to value
creatures who are the founts or originators of reason, namely persons. Any creature capable
of meaningfully asking the question ‘What ought I to do?’ or ‘How ought I behave?’ or
‘What should govern my conduct?’ must also be a creature who should recognize the
existence of other rational and potentially rational creatures of the same kind as himself.
Not to recognize the existence of such fellow creatures would be to ignore features of the
human condition obviously relevant to the rational answering of the questions posed. Not
to take the existence of other rational creatures into account in these considerations about
conduct would be analogous to a studied indifference to the existence of physical objects
in deciding how I should move about the physical world. The recognition of persons is of
course not the recognition of them merely as physical objects, rather it is a recognition of
them as sources of reason, centres of consciousness, possessors of interests and purposes;
and this recognition carries with it the recognition of an appropriateness of treatment of,
conduct towards, such creatures. Such an awareness of appropriateness of conduct towards
other persons is what is embodied in the idea of respect for persons as described in 2.3. The
central point of such respect is basically a respect for reason in the form of individualized
consciousness, the only living form that reason can take. Respect for persons is a special
kind of respect because it is essentially a respect for embodied and living reason: the kind
of conduct owed by all creatures trying to be rational to all creatures capable of rationality.
Kant caught the spirit of this idea in various forms of his categorical imperative. For example,
‘Act only on that maxim through which you can at the same time will that it should become
a universal law’ picks out the idea of an appeal to the universality of reason, whereas ‘So
act as to use humanity, both in your own person and in the person of every other, always
at the same time as an end, never simply as a means’ picks out the complementary idea of
respect for persons as founts of reason, centres of consciousness and possessors of interests
and purposes.8 The formal appeal to rationality and the respect for all creatures capable of
rationality are but two aspects of the same framework of morality.
To apply this kind of moral commitment to myself and other adults has two consequences.
The first, already noted, is that in regard to myself there is an obligation to improve my
own rational mind in so far as I am able. I have expressed this in terms of the duty an
individual has to continue his own liberal education. Kant expresses it thus:
It is the duty of man to himself to cultivate his natural powers (of the spirit, of the mind
and of the body) as a means to all kinds of possible ends. Man owes it to himself (as an
intelligence) not to let his natural predispositions and capacities (which his reason can use
some day) remain unused, and not to leave them, as it were, to rust.9
Secondly, however, this moral commitment cannot extend in any sense to my imposition of
this requirement upon other persons if they are adult. That part of my respect for them which
notes their capacity to act as free agents would forbid this. I might morally urge, facilitate
and certainly not hinder the rational development of my fellow human creatures, but I
should not try to compel it. There is a large and interesting area of discussion possible here
The justification of liberal educationâ•… 33
concerning the desirability of state governments taking positive steps both to encourage
the rational development of its adult citizens and to act against such forces as might hinder
that rational development. Recognizing persons as free agents does not necessarily mean
that a government should be entirely passive on such an issue, especially if what might be
described as anti-rational forces can be shown to be over-influential for whatever reason.
This brings us to the consideration closest to our present purpose. What is the implication
of the framework of moral obligation sketched above for the moral obligation adults might
have towards children and young persons in the national community?
Some aspects of the moral duties adults owe to children are no different from those
owed to other adults. I should not take the life of children nor inflict unnecessary pain upon
them; I should not use them merely as means to my ends; I should aid them in avoiding
suffering wherever possible. The difficulty comes, however, in the more sophisticated
forms of conduct towards others warranted by the conception I have of them as rational
and autonomous agents. This children clearly are not, and to act towards them as though
they were would be a perverse kind of cruelty, particularly perverse if done in the name
of reason. What they equally clearly are, however, is potentially rational and autonomous;
they can, with help, become rational and autonomous at least to a greater rather than a
lesser degree. The ‘with help’ here is of great importance to the idea of our moral duty
towards children and young people. Personal autonomy is not a characteristic which
has had its child-rearing antecedents widely investigated and we could do with a great
deal more ernpirical research in this area. It seems highly likely, however, that personal
autonomy does not come automatically by some unfolding process of maturation, nor does
it come by any old process of interaction with adults or peers, but it is rather a product of
certain kinds of adult help and encouragement, without which it is unlikely to develop
at all. Furthermore, there are certain others kinds of adult interaction with children and
young persons that can be shown to be directly opposed to the kind of development I
am favouring here. Children do not ‘flower’ if they are left alone, though they may well
‘vegetate’, and they can all too easily be conditioned and indoctrinated into beliefs and
conduct that will act against their own best interests as creatures potentially capable of a
future of reason and autonomy.
If all this is so then the moral duty of adults towards children is reasonably clear and
has two parts. The positive part is a duty to help children, in all ways possible, to become
increasingly rational and autonomous up to the point where the moral duty to do this for
themselves might reasonably be expected to take over. The negative form of this duty is an
obligation not to allow or encourage the social environment to foreclose on the possibilities
and life-styles open to a child’s future as a rational and autonomous being. It is my contention
that the main way of exercising both of these responsibilities is to provide for the child a
programme of general and liberal education of the kind outlined, and to defend the priority
of such a liberal education from encroachment or replacement by other claims.
Now this really completes the moral justification for the provision of a liberal general
education in broad terms, but it leaves a number of questions unanswered. I have not yet
said exactly who might be expected to provide such an education. Clearly the responsibility
cannot be left to float diffusely among the adult population as a whole. A long and
honourable tradition has held that this responsibility falls clearly upon parents who may
delegate but may never entirely abdicate the obligation to educate their own young or to
see to it that they are educated. There are, of course, a number of difficulties in the way of
34â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
parents educating their own children and thus exercising their responsibility directly. It is
worth listing some of them:
(i) Division of labour and the extensive employment of both men and women outside
their own homes leaves little time for effective, prolonged and continuous teaching.
(ii) Direct parental instruction, as a major part of the child’s education, would isolate the
child from social experiences forming in themselves a part of a liberal education.
(iii) Increased expectation of the breadth and depth of a liberal education makes it unlikely
that more than a few parents would be capable of providing it.
(iv) Although it might be argued that parents have a particular responsibility for their
children’s education, the persons influenced and affected by the state of education of
a country’s young people constitute a much greater number.
(v) Differential provision by the varied exercise of parental responsibilities is particu-
larly unjust given the significance of education for a child’s future and present life.
Reasons such as these have led to varied forms of the delegation of parental responsibility
to tutors, governesses and grand or small independent schools, often of a boarding kind
where much more than the directly educational functions of parents were taken over for
long periods. These practices of the wealthy and relatively wealthy became extended
to the less wealthy by means of charities, endowments and religious beneficence until
eventually central and local government also became involved and included the provision,
if not always the direction, of education under its expected mandate. There has been a feel
about the patchy history of educational provision of ever larger and more bureaucratic
agencies taking on the erstwhile duties of parents. It would not be correct, however, to see
these larger and more powerful agents of educational provision as simply taking over the
responsibilities of parents. Such agents, especially central and local governments, would
claim to represent a much wider constituency of educational interest and concern than that
of parents alone. At one level this is only to say that agencies like governments will take
notice of special groups like, for example, employers and manufacturers. Such groups
come to expect that both their workers and the buyers of their products will have received
a reasonable level of education. More profoundly and importantly than this, governmental
provision of education might be seen, indeed has been seen, as defending and liberating
children by compelling their involvement in an education well beyond that which parents
alone could have provided, or, in many cases, would have wished to provide.
On this argument there is a prima facie case for government provision of education
by one means or another; but if a government accepts this responsibility it has the grave
moral responsibility of ensuring that the education provided is liberating and not further
restricting. The great temptation lying in wait for governments is to see education as
merely instrumental to any particular end seen as important at that time by the particular
government, like manpower provision, wealth-creating, or the unity of the nation.
I must return to these matters, but at this point it is enough to note that I am claiming
that the moral duty for the adult community to liberally educate its young is best taken up
on behalf of all by a democratically elected government as one of its duties of provision.
This must not, of course, be taken to mean that the members or officers of a government are
the best persons to determine the content or methodology of a liberal education. On these
matters, too, there is much more to say before our theory is complete.
part II
Content and Method
5
Some preliminary ideas
5.1 Introduction
The main intent of this and the following two chapters is to sketch an account of what
should actually be taught, and hopefully learned, as an adequate body of a liberal education.
It is necessary to prepare the ground for this. One of the major faults of many of the
proposals for an appropriate curriculum for universal and compulsory schooling is that lists
of subjects are laid out without any real attempt at explanation or justification of why one
should favour the particular list being offered. What is necessary is to show at some length
why the particular recommendations are made.
We have already gone some way along this road in our discussions of the nature and
justification of a liberal education. Claims for a particular content must clearly flow from
and be compatible with these earlier characterizations and justifications; and what these
earlier arguments point to is some characterization of what is to be taught and learned
in terms of intrinsic worthwhileness, fundamentality, rationality and capacity to liberate
pupils from the contingencies of the present and the particular. This in itself provides at
least some broad criteria to weigh proposals against.
Perhaps the first important introductory point to make is that the content and substance
of a liberal education is not the same as the content and substance of a total curriculum for
schools of universal and compulsory education. It would be most extreme to maintain that
the only activities to go on in such schools should be those activities essentially constituting
a liberal general education. I shall want to argue for the highest priority for the liberal
education elements in the schools and to point to the unjustifiable emphasis often given to
other and less important considerations; but even this is not to argue that nothing other than
liberal education should take place. What else might take place in schools, of course, will
need different and additional justifications to those considered here for a liberal education.
The content and structure to be argued for here, then, is peculiarly that of whatever part of
a total curriculum is to be considered a general and liberal education.
Some consideration must be given to the proposals of other writers on this subject. This
does, however, present difficulties since most other proposals are not solely concerned
with liberal education, neither do they clearly demarcate within their proposals which are
intended to be there for purposes of liberal education. This is not a trivial point nor an
unimportant difficulty in trying to think straight about a school curriculum. Those elements
of a curriculum there for liberal education purposes are to be justified differently from
those elements included for long- or short-term instrumental (usually vocational) purposes,
as I have argued earlier, so to conflate them in common proposals can be confusing.
Many writers on the curriculum do seem to take it for granted that vocational claims
will loom large. For example, Anthony O’ Hear, in pursuing the point that the deprivation
Some preliminary ideasâ•… 37
of the liberty of the child in school is to be justified by the extent to which his schooling
‘promotes his own individual liberty and the respect he has for the liberties of others’, goes
on to specify:
The academic core of the curriculum, some (unspecified) vocational training, and moral
education are justified to that extent, the academic core because it forms the basis necessary
for personal decisions in life, moral education because it leads to an understanding of
the rights of others and vocational training because it will provide the basis of self-
sufficiency.1
Similarly, Robin Barrow believes that vocational studies should be introduced to pupils
among other elements at about the age of 13–15, but what he describes seems to be what
others call ‘careers education’, involving little more than an introduction to the kinds of
job likely to be available to school-leavers and the skills necessary for them. Barrow’s
arguments are utilitarian, as they are throughout:
It is worthwhile that the school should do what it can in terms of preparing the individual
child to take on a job to which he is suited, because such preparation can only lead to an
increase in personal pleasure for the individual. Greater personal satisfaction for individuals
can only lead to greater harmony in society as a whole.2
Yet again, the important directive, The School Curriculum, issued by the Secretary of State
for Education and Science in England and the Secretary of State for Wales in March 1981,
and which is likely strongly to influence the curricula of schools in England and Wales
for some time to come, states as one of its three propositions about secondary education:
‘School education needs to equip young people fully for adult and working life in a world
which is changing very fast indeed.’3 Like the proposals of Barrow, this seems to involve
mainly careers education and contacts with industry; unlike Barrow, the problem of
justification is largely ignored. One is tempted to observe that it is precisely because the
rate of technological change in the world is so great that it is not possible to prepare pupils
in school fully for it, but we must leave these arguments for the moment. One last example
will suffice for the point being made. Tim Devlin and Mary Warnock in their book, What
Must We Teach?, include aspects of careers education and other instrumental preparations
for life in their ‘outer circle’ which covers those activities which are to be compulsory but
not examined, though the justification here appears to be connected with the desirability
of focusing pupils’ critical faculties upon the near, the immediate and the particular, rather
than always upon the distant and the generalized.4
The point of this somewhat arbitrary selection of writers who make reference to vocational
or quasi-vocational studies in their proposals for the curriculum is only to indicate the
mixture that one finds. Instrumental justifications are simply not sufficiently distinguished
from the more fundamental requirements of a liberal education. I shall leave any further
consideration of non-liberal or utility claims on curriculum time to a later chapter, and deal
here with the considerations that bear directly on the content and substance of a liberal
education. In order to do this it will be necessary to look with some care at the work of three
writers who have made detailed proposals that do claim to have the fundamentality I am
concerned with and do rest on some substantial attempt at justification. Before doing this,
38â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
however, and then attempting my own positive account, I want to consider briefly some
concepts central to this discussion. They are: fundamentality, information, knowledge,
truth and understanding.
5.2 Fundamentality
This notion was introduced and briefly characterized in 3.3.2 where it was claimed that the
knowledge and understanding to be gained in a liberal education must be as fundamental as
possible in order to have the generality of application that is more rather than less liberating.
The origins of the word ‘fundamental’ are connected with the idea of a foundation or basis
upon which other things might stand or be built. Historically the idea has developed from
its purely physical connotation to the modern reference to less immediately material things
like knowledge, so that the ‘OED’ can now give the following meanings that convey the
idea intended here. ‘Fundamental’ is held to mean:
of or pertaining to the foundation or groundwork, going to the root of the matter;
serving as the base upon which to build. Chiefly and now exclusively in immaterial
applications. Hence forming an essential or indispensable part of a system;
primary, original; from which others are derived.
It is a possible temptation here to be carried away into some absolute reification of the idea
of a substantive ‘fundamental’ or a number of such ‘fundamentals’. This temptation must
be resisted: there are, of course, no studies that are absolute and permanent foundations
of everything else we might wish to do. Nevertheless, there are activities that are more
fundamental than others and as the fundamentality increases so does the generality of
the application: fundamentality is opposed to superficiality as generality is opposed to
specificity. Although it is not a logical connection it does also seem to be the case that what
is fundamentally known changes rather more slowly than the multitudinous ideas of more
superficial information that we have at any given time. For example, the items of railway
and bus timetable information that I need to have vary from time to time, as do the various
ways in which such information might be presented. Ways of measuring and recording
time, however, change more slowly, and an understanding of them is fundamental to
understanding any timetables whatsoever.
The idea of what knowledge and understanding is fundamental is somewhat like, though
not identical with, the philosophical idea of what has necessarily to be supposed in order to
make sense of something else. Morality, for example, only makes sense on the necessary
presupposition of the existence of free agents. To put this another way, it is more important
in moral education that a child should come to understand what it is to be a free agent than
simply to conform to a particular rule like not stealing, since the point of the latter can only
be understood in the context of the former. Hence the notion of free agency is fundamental.
It is not only within certain kinds of knowledge that some concepts and propositions
are more fundamental than others. For it is also the case that some whole frameworks of
knowledge and understanding can be considered more fundamental than others. It is in this
sense that animal biology is more fundamental than animal training, and human nutrition
more fundamental than cookery.
Some preliminary ideasâ•… 39
What is fundamental is not to be confused with what is elementary or what is rudimentary.
Both of these notions are related to the idea of simplicity, but in different senses. Elements
are simple, that is irreducible, parts of a whole: the parts we would need to put together in
order to understand the whole. Rudiments are beginnings, not in the sense of foundations,
but in the sense of easy or imperfect starting points. We might say, for example, that the
elements of science likely to be first taught will be but rudimentary and cannot yet display
the ideas fundamental to science. This is an important distinction in education, since the
idea of teaching something because it is fundamental does not immediately reveal the order
in which that something should be taught.
5.3.1 Information
Claiming that a liberal education liberates people from the contingencies of the present
and the particular by involving them in fundamental knowledge and understanding calls
for some explanation of what kind of knowledge I am talking about. I am not talking about
information, at least not in the modern sense of that term. The earlier sense of ‘inform’ and
‘information’ would have made this distinction less necessary. The notion of information
was once a richer package than it now is, and carried the idea of the ‘formation or moulding
of the mind or character, training, instruction, teaching’ (‘OED’); so that to inform would be
‘To form, mould or train (the mind, character, etc.) esp. by imparting learning or instruction;
hence, To impart instruction to (a person), to instruct, teach (in general sense)’ (‘OED’).
The ‘OED’ is quite clear, however, that this sense is obsolete or rare and that the prevailing
sense is much narrower, and common observation confirms this. The modern sense of
‘information’ is ‘communication of the knowledge or news of some fact or occurrence; the
action of telling or the fact of being told something’; and the modern sense of ‘inform’ is
‘To impart knowledge of some particular fact or occurrence to (a person); to tell (one) of or
acquaint (one) with something’ (‘OED’).
There are two significant points about this contemporary usage of the word ‘information’.
Firstly, there is the emphasis on relatively isolated facts, events or occurrences that one is
informed about and the relatively non-evidential nature of the presentation. To be informed
that plants grow towards the light, for example, is simply to be given that information,
that fact. I need be given no reasons, demonstrations, explanations for this to be a piece of
information. Of course I would need to have some grasp of what a plant is, and what light
is, but this kind of understanding need only be minimal. Secondly, there is the emphasis
on straightforward telling. Information, typically, involves facts being passed on from one
person to another or others by word of mouth, print, or something similar. There is nothing
in this conception of one individual helping another to come to see why he should believe
something to be the case, only the transfer or the sharing of the information that it is.
There are many occasions where information, even on this narrowly restricted
conception, is all one needs. This may be because the understanding of the context in which
the particular piece of information is to fit can safely be assumed, or because the recipient
needs the particular piece of information for practical purposes of an immediate kind where
evidence and understanding in any extensive sense are not necessary. In all cases, however,
40â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
the recipient must trust the giver of the information, or have reason to believe that the giver
is knowledgeable and unlikely to deceive or misinform. Much information, though not all,
is transitory as to its truth and value: knowing the present price of timber is fine if I want
to buy timber now, but that information will be useless to buyers next year, though it might
continue to be of value to economic historians. It is the transitoriness of information, its
isolation from frameworks of understanding and evidence, and its dependence upon the
trusted information-giver that separates information from more fundamental knowledge
and understanding. Information will have a place in schooling, inevitably, but the content
and substance of a liberal education can never consist simply of a body of information,
however extensive and diversified that collection might be.
There is a class of persons (happily not quite so numerous as formerly) who think it enough
if a person assents undoubtingly to what they think true, though he has no knowledge
whatever of the grounds of the opinion, and could not make a tenable defence of it against
the most superficial objections. Such persons, if they can once get their creed taught from
authority, naturally think that no good, and some harm, comes of it being allowed to be
questioned. Where their influence prevails, they make it nearly impossible for the received
opinion to be rejected wisely and considerately, though it may still be rejected rashly and
ignorantly; for to shut out discussion entirely is seldom possible, and when it once gets in,
beliefs not grounded on conviction are apt to give way before the slightest semblance of an
argument. Waiving, however, this possibility—assuming that the true opinion abides in the
mind, but abides as a prejudice, a belief independent of, and proof against, argument—this
is not the way in which truth ought to be held by a rational being. This is not knowing the
truth. Truth, thus held, is but one superstition the more, accidentally clinging to the words
which enunciate a truth.6
Mill does not deny that it is useful to mankind to increase the number of truths—i.e. beliefs
that are no longer contested—but he fears that the very acceptance of these truths presents
problems about the way they are to be passed on to other generations who have not shared
in the excitement of their initial battle for acceptance:
The loss of so important an aid to the intelligent and living apprehension of a truth, as is
afforded by the necessity of explaining it to, or defending it against, opponents, though not
sufficient to outweigh, is no trifling drawback from, the benefit of its universal recognition.
Where this advantage can no longer be had, I confess I should like to see the teachers of
mankind endeavouring to provide a substitute for it; some contrivance for making the
difficulties of the question as present to the learner’s consciousness, as if they were pressed
upon him by a dissentient champion, eager for his conversion.7
What I am suggesting is that if we take the view that it is justifiable beliefs that we are
concerned about, rather than some reified ‘truths’ we are more likely to do something like
Mill wishes ‘the teachers of mankind’ to do, but there need be no contrivance about it. To
involve pupils in knowledge is to involve them in the evidence, the reasons for believing,
46â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
and this can only be done if the atmosphere is one of questioning, discussion and critical
examination of the kind that initially accompanied the discovery of the ‘truth’ in question.
Now, of course, people do commonly attach much importance to the idea of truth and
are likely to be properly suspicious of what looks like an attempt to dispense with it. What
I am doing, however, is only concerned with dispensing with the dogmatic reifications of
‘truth’ that I have described. I certainly do want to say that ‘Statement p is true’ can always
be translated without loss of meaning into ‘Statement p ought to be believed because there
are good reasons for believing it’ The only test for such a definition is that it might be
more useful and lead to less difficulties and pseudo puzzles than others. It has the added
advantage of drawing our attention to the need for involving pupils in the evidence and
justification for the beliefs we want them to hold.
What is not relinquished here is what we might call the moral concern for truth. ‘Teachers
should be concerned about truth’ becomes ‘Teachers should be concerned that beliefs are
justifiable,’ and this expresses one side of our moral concern about truth, namely, that
statements should not be made flippantly or carelessly, but should be uttered, as it were,
seriously—with care about their justification. Indeed, the concern is that the truths stay
living, even when transmitted in education, by virtue of not being dissociated from the
evidence and justification that gave them life: hence the emphasis on justifiable belief
rather than ‘truth’ which gets cut off from its justificatory base and becomes dead dogma.
The other side of the moral concern for truth that these arguments need not diminish
is the concern for honesty. In other words we still, of course, want people to say what
they believe to be the case and not pretend that something is the case when there are
reasons, known to the speaker, to believe otherwise. In particular we should want teachers
to involve children with beliefs that the teachers can honestly justify, in an atmosphere in
which the pupils can openly and honestly accept and reject beliefs on evidence available to
them. Honesty and sincerity are not abrogated by anything said here. These matters must
be examined more closely in considering the methods of liberal education.
5.5 Understanding
Unlike the characterization of knowledge by some teachers in the derogatory sense described
earlier, understanding is nearly always given the stamp of approval by contemporary
teachers. What exactly it is to understand may not always be very clear but that it is to be
valued few, if any, appear to doubt. Indeed, discussions all too often focus on reasons for
pupils not understanding or misunderstanding without any adequate positive conception of
understanding to hold these shortcomings against. Since I am arguing that the content of a
liberal education must rest on sound conceptions of knowledge and understanding I must
give some account of understanding here.
A first important point to make is that understanding occurs in individual minds. Even if
some might claim (though controversially) that stocks of knowledge can exist in libraries,
and on films and tapes, independent of individual minds, the idea that understanding could
so exist strikes us immediately as ridiculous. If machine intelligence is raised as a challenge
to this general point there might be more to be said; but it is probably sufficient here to say
that in so far as constructions capable of artificial intelligence can be said to understand,
they are acting in the significant respects like individual minds. Their existence does not
Some preliminary ideasâ•… 47
destroy the point being made, but it might widen our conception of what counts as individual
minds. (See Margaret Boden: Artificial Intelligence and Natural Man8.) In education, at
least, it should be fairly obvious that the understanding we bring about, or seek to bring
about, must be fashioned in the minds of individual pupils, since there is nowhere else
that such understanding can occur. I make this point, not because it is seriously challenged
elsewhere—I cannot believe that anyone seriously doubts it—but rather because it is rarely
given the emphasis that it deserves and many classroom practices appear to be ignoring
its truth. Bringing about understanding in individual minds, and ascertaining whether such
understanding has been achieved, are two of the main tasks of liberal educators.
This does not say much about what understanding is, though it points to some things that
it is not. To move rather closer we can note that ‘understand’ is sometimes used to mean
‘know’, as in: ‘I understand that metals expand when heated’ or ‘I understand how to solve
simultaneous equations’. If this was all the word ‘understand’ meant it would clearly be a
redundant term. There is another reason for not supposing ‘understanding’ to be synonymous
with ‘knowing’, which is to do with the idea of correctness associated with knowing and
not necessarily with understanding. The logical and conceptual structure of ideas picked
out by ‘understanding’ is in some ways more complex than that picked out by ‘knowing’.
The difference is mainly that to know something I must have a belief that is, in some sense
at least, correct. To understand something always leaves open the further questions of (a)
whether it is appropriate to talk of this example of understanding as correct or not, and (b)
if so, whether it is correct or not. Another way of putting this is to say that ‘understand’
can have two different but connected meanings which generate different opposites.
In the second sense of the word we often speak of having an understanding, where this
can mean various things. It might mean that although a person has an understanding of
something he has put it together incorrectly—e.g. he understands a whale as a fish. On the
other hand it might mean, when we say that he has an understanding, that his understanding
is one among many equally possible ones, or that his understanding is one among a number
of controversial understandings, where not all can be correct but the issue is not yet
decided. For example, there might be various ‘understandings’ of a picture—one person
might see Breughel’s picture of the harvesters under the tree as an essay in yellow and
gold, another sees it as a masterpiece of perspective, yet another sees it as a statement about
man’s innate gluttony and sloth. Each ‘understanding’ is possible and no one excludes the
others. On the other hand one person might understand violence as something to be morally
condemned in all circumstances, whilst another person believes violence to be sometimes
justifiable. Here both cannot be right, yet it is difficult to see how one clearly demonstrates
the mistake, the misunderstanding, of the other. These areas of inquiry which appear to
48â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
allow, quite properly, for kinds of understandings not reducible, or not easily or readily
reducible, to one correct kind, are of the greatest importance for the curriculum and for
teaching methods.
What is common, however, to all these usages of the word ‘understand’ is the idea of
making sense of something in a way meaningful to me. Clearly and strictly, if the sense is
not meaningful to me there is no sense made. Nevertheless, it is important, I think, to stress
the ‘meaningful to me’ part to reinforce the point already made about understanding going
on in individual minds, and to remind ourselves, as teachers, that for something to be clear
and meaningful for us is only part of the exercise of getting it to be clear and meaningful
to someone else.
What is it, then, for something to make sense in a way meaningful to me? The main
answer to this, I believe, lies in three key ideas:
(i) relationships or linkages,
(ii) non-arbitrariness, and
(iii) coherence.
If I am struggling to make sense of something that at the moment puzzles me I am normally
trying to make relationships or linkages of some kind: What is this like? What is it not
like? How could it be used? Is it a kind of ‘X’? Is it long enough, heavy enough, light
enough, tough enough for an ‘X’? These kinds of questions refer, of course, to attempts to
understand some physical object, but similar questions arise about ideas, words, sentences,
theories or any ‘thing’ capable of being understood. The object of the exercise is always to
fit the ‘thing’ to be understood into some framework of relationships which, of course, must
already partly exist in some form in my own mind. In order to make this fit I may have to
alter the framework of meanings I already have in my mind. Piaget’s account of adaptation
by assimilation and accommodation is an elaboration of this idea.9 All understanding is
making, enlarging, sophisticating, modifying systems of relationships or linkages.
Individual understanding is greatly facilitated if the individual is assisted, by say a
teacher, to enter into those great assemblages of relationships already shared by the minds
of many others and variously described as disciplines, forms of knowledge, realms of
meaning, and so on. To grasp the way in which an idea, a theory, a word, an object, a tool
already fits in a framework of ideas known to others (and increasingly to the person trying
to understand) as physics, or geography, or history is far easier than to fit every isolated
object of cognition or perception into frameworks of purely individual construction. It is
this necessary interplay between the personal mental constructions that must be made if
understanding is to occur, and the already established, shared and public bodies of knowledge
and understanding, that constitute the challenge and difficulty of education. As the shared
and public knowledge increases in volume and complexity, the temptation is to shortcut
or ignore the necessity for real individual understanding, and the result can be disastrous.
The idea that the linkages and relationships have to be non-arbitrary is a simple but
necessary counter to the madder forms of idiosyncrasy. It is not to say that the pattern of
relationships constituting a person’s understanding must be just like everyone else’s pattern,
for to say this would deny the possibility of any kind of discovery, creativity or innovation;
but it is to say that the relationships must embody some system, some rule, some process of
ordering, either already existing or newly capable of demonstration. Indeed, a relationship
Some preliminary ideasâ•… 49
that does not invoke these characteristics raises difficulties about how it can be conceived
of as a relationship.
The idea of coherence is the idea of ‘things’ sticking together but the adhesive idea has
clearly become metaphorical. What is normally held to supply the adhesion when we are
talking of the coherence of a network of related ideas are the twin notions of consistency
and connectedness.10 Most writers admit that perfect coherence is an ideal rather than
a realizable experience. In a perfectly coherent system of propositions not only would
no proposition contradict any other, directly or by implication (consistency), but every
proposition would entail all the others ‘if only for the reason that its meaning could never
be fully understood without apprehension of the system in its entirety’.11 It is the last idea,
that of the interdependence of each idea, concept or proposition on each and every other
idea, concept or proposition, that constitutes the ‘connectedness’ part of coherence. The
supposition that in its complete form coherence is an unrealizable ideal should not be
taken to detract from its importance as a criterion of understanding. The important idea
to grasp is that there is no way in which ideas, concepts, words, propositions, etc., can
be grasped, made meaningful, in isolation. Meaning can only come by the grasping of
the interdependent body of relationships in which the idea, etc., has its being. This is not
merely an important idea in education. It is no exaggeration to say that it is the central and
most characterizing idea of a proper liberal education. Pupils must be initiated into the
most fundamental networks of ideas and activities mankind has evolved, in a way which
gives them each an individual knowledge and understanding of these great systems to
whatever extent is individually possible. No other procedure can properly liberate each
individual pupil from the particular dependencies of time and place, nor properly fulfil the
moral duty that one generation owes to the next.
5.6 Summary
It is perhaps useful at this point to attempt a summary of these preliminaries.
Building on the characterization of a liberal education set out earlier, I am now arguing
that the criterion of fundamentality cannot be satisfied by seeing liberal education as a
purveying of information, even where such information might be considered immediately
useful. Schools will always have to supply some information, of course, both in its own right
for immediate or short-term usefulness, and as instrumental to the more profound purposes
of liberal education; but it is the deeper purposes of knowledge and understanding in their
full senses that must provide the mainsprings of a liberal education. The understanding
criterion involves the initiation and engagement of pupils in those frameworks of
interrelated ideas and activities that have stood the test of time in terms of fundamentality,
non-arbitrariness and coherence, and the knowledge criterion involves the initiation and
engagement of pupils in frameworks of interrelated, evidentially held beliefs where ideas
of justifiable correctness are significant. In both cases the suggestion of ‘initiation and
engagement’ distinguishes an attitude to knowledge and understanding as profoundly
different from that appropriate to the purveyance of information, the handling of ‘mere
knowledge’, or the transmission of ‘truths’ in the ‘dead dogma’ sense castigated by Mill.
The methodological implications of ‘initiation and engagement’ will be considered more
fully in a later chapter.
6
Three accounts considered
There is a large literature of suggestions for the curriculum of schools of universal education.
As indicated earlier, however, much of this literature is of little use in an endeavour to find
proposals based on fundamental principles, and much of it is almost hopelessly entangled
with considerations other than those appropriate to the justification of a curriculum for a
liberal education. Before enlarging the general suggestions so far made into a more specific
account of the content and method of a liberal education I intend to consider the views of
three writers, all philosophers of education, who have attempted to base recommendations
on principles which, though different, are considered to be fundamental. The three are:
(i) P.H.Hirst: based on an epistemological analysis of the nature of knowledge.
(ii) P.Phenix: claims to be based on the idea that ‘knowledge in the disciplines has pat-
terns or structures and that an understanding of these typical forms is essential for the
guidance of teaching and learning’, but is probably best seen as based on a phenom-
enological account of the differentiated areas of ‘meaning’ evolved by humankind.
(iii) J.White: based on the educational implications of a subjective theory of values.
The link between mind and knowledge is, then, for Hirst, a logical relationship:
from which it follows that the achievement of knowledge is necessarily the development of
mind—that is, the self-conscious rational mind of man—in its most fundamental aspect.3
Before we take the next expository step, which is to look at what Hirst goes on to say about
the nature of knowledge, now seen to be indissolubly linked with the nature of mind, it is
important to note another link of a logical and conceptual kind that Hirst makes. This is the
link between the idea of knowledge and the idea of meaning. Some indication of this was
given in Hirst’s early paper, where he says, for example:
and where he is at pains to point out that it is not only knowledge in its minimal sense that
consists of publicly statable conceptual structures, but that:
The various manifestations of consciousness, in, for instance, different sense perceptions,
different emotions, or different elements of intellectual understanding, are intelligible only
by virtue of the conceptual apparatus by which they are articulated.5
and that without the human development of cognitive frameworks embodying public
criteria:
all other forms of consciousness, including, for example, emotional experiences, or mental
attitudes and beliefs, would seem to be unintelligible.6
all aspects of meaning necessitate the use of concepts and it is only by virtue of
conceptualisations that there is anything we can call meaning at all. And no concepts can
be the basis of shared meaning without criteria for their application. But the criteria for the
application of a concept, say ‘X’, simply are the criteria for the truth of statements that say
something is an ‘X’. By this chain of relations, that meaning necessitates concepts, that
concepts necessitate criteria of application and that criteria of application are truth criteria
for propositions or statements, the notions of meaning and true propositions, and therefore
meaning and knowledge, are logically connected.7
This tight connection between meaning and true propositions is an essential part of Hirst’s
structure of ideas. It turns out to be a very restricting and harmful part of his thesis, as we
shall see when I turn to criticism. But now I must move on to Hirst’s account of the forms
of knowledge themselves.
These are to be not merely discriminable conceptual frameworks, but discriminable
bodies of true propositions, and are indeed seen to be distinguishable, one from another, by
an examination of those aspects which are ‘the necessary features of true propositions or
statements’. These aspects are:
(i) Certain central concepts that are peculiar in character to the form.
(ii) A network of possible relationships between concepts in which experience can be
understood. A distinctive logical structure.
(iii) Distinctive tests against experience in accordance with particular criteria peculiar to
the form.
(iv) Particular techniques and skills for exploring experience and testing their distinctive
expressions.
In later papers far less attention is given to (iv) and it is fairly clear that the significant
and important distinguishing criteria came to be regarded by Hirst as the idea of specific
conceptual structures based upon some centrally characterizing (if not categorial) concepts,
and the idea of specific and discriminate truth tests. For instance, in the paper against
Phenix we have:
These forms, I have argued, can only be distinguished by examining the necessary
features of true propositions or statements: the conceptual structures and the truth criteria
involved.8
the three elements in which the differences are to be found are the concepts and the
logical structure propositions employ, and the criteria for truth in terms of which they are
assessed.9
Three accounts consideredâ•… 53
In trying to enumerate the exact forms of knowledge distinguished by these criteria there
appears to have been some confusion, to be noted more fully later, as to whether logically
discernible forms are being listed, or empirically discernible claims for such status are
being listed. In the early paper there seemed little doubt that what Hirst had in mind was a
list of what seemed to be revealed by his analysis, when he wrote:
In summary, then, it is suggested that the forms of knowledge as we have them can be
classified as follows:
I Distinct disciplines or forms of knowledge (subdivisible): mathematics, physical
sciences, human science, history, religion, literature and fine arts, philosophy.10
II Fields of knowledge: theoretical, practical (These may or may not include elements of
moral knowledge).
To this list Hirst added another suggested classification based on organizations of
knowledge:
It is the distinct disciplines that basically constitute the range of unique ways we have of
understanding experience if to these is added the category of moral knowledge.12
By this point in the argument it is clear that in order to be liberally educated pupils must,
according to Hirst, be engaged in some way in each of the distinguishable forms of
knowledge, since that is what it is, in our historical time, to develop a rational mind. This
does not mean that the content of a liberal education would simply be each of the forms
taught separately. How pupils are to be best initiated into the forms will depend upon
many things of a psychological, practical and organizational kind. Integrated studies, for
example, are not automatically ruled out. Nevertheless, Hirst is emphatic that, however it
is done, the objective must be that pupils become able to know and to understand in each
of the forms of knowledge.
Hirst is also at pains to point out that he does not see a liberal education as synonymous
or coterminous with a general education:
Certainly liberal education as it is here being understood is only one part of the education
a person ought to have, for it omits quite deliberately for instance specialist education,
physical education and character training.13
In writing about the forms of knowledge thesis in later papers, and in replying to criticism,
Hirst has not seriously altered his general thesis but two modifications are worthy of note
before turning from exposition to criticism. The first concerns the characterization of
54â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
the suggested forms of knowledge. The chapter on The Curriculum in the well-known
introductory text, ‘The Logic of Education’, written jointly by Hirst and Richard Peters in
1970, says:
Detailed studies suggest that some seven areas can be distinguished, each of which
necessarily involves the use of concepts of a particular kind and a distinctive type of test
for its objective claims.14
On the other hand, history and some of the social sciences are in large measure not concerned
simply with an understanding of observable phenomena in terms of physical causation, but
with explanations of human behaviour in terms of intentions, will, hopes, beliefs, etc. The
concepts, logical structure and truth criteria of propositions of this latter kind are, I would
now argue, different from, and not reducible to, those of the former kind.15
A second important difference is to cease talking of literature and the fine arts and to talk
instead of ‘objective aesthetic experience’. This is to meet the fairly obvious objection
that literature and the fine arts includes under its umbrella title a vast range of activities,
many of which it would be extremely difficult to consider in terms of the truth or falsity
of propositions. Similar objections could be made about religion. In dealing with these
objections Hirst says:
The suggestion that in literature and the fine arts and also in religion we have distinct forms
of knowledge has not surprisingly provoked opposition. Let me therefore make it clear that
they can to my mind only be regarded as such in so far as they involve expressions that
have the features of true propositions. We certainly do talk of the arts and religion as being
cognitive, as providing distinctive types of knowledge. Whether this is justifiable and there
is a form of knowledge in the arts, depends on whether or not artistic works themselves
have features parallel to those of propositions with related objective tests.16
What these modifications of the delineation of the forms adds up to, I believe, is a tightening
of the thesis around the idea (which was there from the start) that what is being talked about
as forms of knowledge are discriminable bodies of true propositions. Whilst undeniably
Three accounts consideredâ•… 55
tightening the logic of what is being said, this does have the effect of making it more
difficult to justify within the thesis the inclusion in the curriculum of a liberal education of
large bodies of practical and expressive activities thought by many to be important.
As against this tightening of the thesis against criticism there has been a corresponding
but less noted weakening which is the second and different modification to be indicated.
In the ‘Logic of Education’ chapter it was still being said that the seven areas ‘can be
distinguished’, the assumption being that these seven areas were revealed in some way
by the logical and conceptual analysis. This impression is strengthened by the words,
‘Detailed studies suggest that some seven areas can be distinguished.’17 Later in the same
passage, however, the word ‘claim’ starts to appear. Morality, for example, ‘must be
recognized as having serious claims to independent status. We are also told that there are
‘claims for a distinctive mode of objective aesthetic experience’ and that ‘Religious claims
in their traditional forms certainly make use of concepts which, it is now maintained, are
irreducible in character.’18 The idea that we are not now always talking about a number
of forms actually logically and conceptually distinguishable by analysis, but rather about
empircally observed claims to such independent status is put more openly in the brief
reference to the forms in Hirst’s paper against Phenix: ‘On this basis it seems to me that we
must at present acknowledge serious claims to some seven distinct categories of meaning
and knowledge.’19
With the noting of these changes and modifications we must now consider the exposition
of Hirst’s views reasonably complete and turn to criticism.
There is much to be said in favour of Hirst’s approach from the point of view of the
necessities of a liberal education sketched earlier in this work. Most importantly, Hirst is
trying to get at what is fundamentally necessary for an education to be liberating. If his
account is correct nothing could be more fundamental than the forms of knowledge. By
definition they would be irreducible, either to one another or to anything else that could
be knowledge. This is fundamentality indeed, and if the account is correct then the forms
of knowledge would have to be the basis of a liberal education, since they would underlie,
characterize, give meaning to, anything that anyone could undertake or choose. Undeniably,
also, if correct the thesis satisfies my criteria of rationality since the development of the
rational mind is at the very heart of the thesis. Intrinsic worthwhileness is pointed to by the
difficulty of imagining how anything else could be valued if the conceptual and cognitive
framework necessary for knowing and understanding it were not valued in some prior way
and to some extent. The rational man may value any or none of a great number of things,
but he must at least value the development of his own rational mind. Hirst does not say
this specifically, but it seems implicit in all he does say that he believes the value of the
development of the rational mind to be objectively justifiable and not a subjective value
which one might take up or lay down as one pleases.
All of this, then, comes admittedly nearer to satisfying the characteristics of a liberal
education than anything else I have seen in print, certainly nearer than the other proposals I
shall look at more briefly. Yet one must nevertheless say that as the thesis stands it will not
do. There are serious and gravely weakening difficulties that must be considered.
The main difficulty arises in any serious attempt to enumerate distinct forms of knowledge
possessing, and therefore distinguishable by, the specific and categorial concepts and the
distinctive tests of truth required by the thesis. It is first of all necessary to be very clear
56â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
what kind of an exercise this is. There are three seemingly similar exercises which are in
fact quite different:
(a) the classification of knowledge and understanding into discrete forms by a demonstrable
analysis of different and distinguishable categorial concepts, conceptual frameworks
and tests of truth;
(b) the noting of bodies of alleged knowledge and understanding that proceed as if they
had demonstrably distinguishable categorial concepts, conceptual frameworks and
tests of truth; that is, it could be said of such bodies that they could only be coherent
if they had such concepts, frameworks and tests, but it is not demonstrable that they
have, or it is controversial whether they have;
(c) the noting of empirically observable claims by many or few persons that such and
such bodies of alleged knowledge and understanding have the independent status that
distinctive categorial concepts, conceptual frameworks and truth tests would give
them.
Without some success in actually indicating forms that satisfy the distinguishing criteria
the thesis of Hirst is reduced to one of prescriptive definition: If an ‘X’ is to be a Hirstian
form of knowledge it must have distinctive categorial concepts, conceptual framework
and tests for truth. The class of forms so defined might be a null class! It might have one
proper member as scientific reductionists would argue. It might have two, as the logical
positivists who shared Hirst’s attachment to a verificationist theory of meaning, argued.
What Hirst has not done, and to be fair does not claim to have done, is to demonstrate that
there actually are the seven he suggests. What he increasingly says, as I have noted above,
is that some ‘X’s are the subjects of claims to be considered as having a separate status, e.g.
religion; whilst other activities can only be considered coherently as forms of knowledge
if, or in so far as, they can be shown to have distinctive categorial concepts, conceptual
frameworks and tests of truth, or in such part of them as can be so shown. Thus the appeal
is indeed sometimes to (a), but it is also sometimes to (b) or (c).
This apparent confusion has a number of implications, all important and harmful to
the thesis. We are no longer clear, for example, exactly what it is that justifies a particular
knowledge activity in the curriculum of a liberal education. Is it to earn its place by a
satisfactory outcome of the (a)-type analysis? Mathematics might satisfy this test, and most
people might be prepared to accept that the physical sciences do, too. But beyond these two
we enter areas of considerable controversy as to the distinctive concepts, structures and
truth tests. Or is a possible knowledge activity to be included in the curriculum by some
(b)-type conjecture? If so, this produces odd results. Someone convinced of the importance
of literature and the fine arts, for exarnple, notes with satisfaction that they seem to get
into the curriculum of a liberal education on Hirst’s account. Closer inspection, however,
especially of Hirst’s debate with Scrimshaw,20 reveals that what Hirst means by this form
of knowledge is nothing like the rich mixture of making, doing, appraising, expressing,
criticizing and appreciating that most lovers of the arts have in mind. This whole area only
satisfies Hirst’s criteria in so far as it, or in such part of it as, can be conceived of as a body
of true propositions. Speaking of both religion, and literature and the arts Hirst says, as we
have already noted:
Three accounts consideredâ•… 57
Let me therefore make it clear that they can to my mind only be regarded as such (i.e.
forms of knowledge) in so far as they involve expressions that have the features of true
propositions.21
The debate here has hinged around whether or not art can be thought of in any sense on the
model of making statements of a propositional kind like those normally made in ordinary
language or in symbolic forms that can be translated into ordinary language. It is highly
doubtful whether the visual arts, music, dance, drama, or even the more imaginative aspects
of literature can be fitted neatly into this paradigm. It is virtually certain that they cannot
without loss of much that is considered not only of value, but is essentially characteristic
of them. Thus even if the debate is resolved in Hirst’s favour it is only likely to show, at an
improbable best, that some part of, some types of, art might be thought of as propositional.
This would not meet the main objection, which is the intuitive belief that the richer aspects
of art, music and literature, form of knowledge or not, propositional or not, have a claim
to be included in the content and substance of a liberal education; nor will it abate the
consequent suspicion that there must be something wrong with a theory that seeks out a
highly speculative cognitive core in the arts as being what is most fundamental to them,
and by so doing relegates beyond the pale of a liberal education precisely those aspects of
art most valued by those who practise and appreciate it.
The difficulty about religion is not quite the same. There is little doubt that for many
people there is a body of true propositions constituting religion in general or, more likely,
a particular religion. The difficulty here is that it is precisely the suggestion that this body
consists of true propositions that is challenged by other, equally intelligent, people. This
is an obvious enough social phenomenon, yet it presents itself as an oddity on Hirst’s
account in two ways. Firstly, religion could only be included in the curriculum of a liberal
education on some kind of (c)-type argument—i.e. it would be there because at least some
people claim it to be a form of knowledge. But what of those who claim it is not? And
what proportion of people would have to be in each camp to settle the issue one way or
another? For note the second aspect of the oddity: where there is dispute as to whether
some community of discourse is actually a form of knowledge or not there is no truth
test apparently available to decide the matter, for while truth tests are, on Hirst’s account,
unique to each form of knowledge, there is no overriding truth test that can be applied. If
it is claimed that it is philosophy, itself a form of knowledge, that is to fill this honorific
role by virtue of its second-order nature, surely this in itself would be controversial? Are
we really to suppose that theologians will see judgments about the nature of the subject of
their enquiries as purely philosophical? Will artists, musicians and poets readily accept the
adjudication of philosophers as to the nature of their activities?
What all this reveals, I believe, is that, whereas the forms-of-knowledge thesis looks
as if areas of knowledge are to earn their place in the curriculum of a liberal eduation by
emerging as distinctive and irreducible after appropriate logical and conceptual analysis, in
fact some at least of those suggested are listed because they are observed to be communities
of discourse of largish numbers of intelligent people. These are, of course, no more than
empirically observed claims to the status that the logical and conceptual analysis would
give if it could.
58â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
What is also revealed by these considerations is that the content and substance of a
liberal education, on Hirst’s account, would not be so rich as appears at first sight. In
fact, when all the qualifications are noted the basis would be very narrow indeed and this
narrowness has led to significant criticism. Jane Roland Martin attacks quite vigorously:
The received theory’s liberally educated person will be taught to see the world through the
lenses of the seven forms of knowledge, if seven there be, but not to act in the world. Nor
will that person be encouraged to acquire feelings and emotions. The theory’s liberally
educated person will be provided with knowledge about others, but will not be taught to
care about their welfare, let alone act kindly towards them. That person will be given some
understanding of society, but will not be taught to feel its injustices or even to be concerned
over its fate. The received theory conceives of a liberally educated person as an ivory tower
person: one who can reason, but has no desire to solve problems in the real world; one who
understands science, but does not worry about the uses to which it is put; one who grasps
the concepts of biology, but is not disposed to exercise or eat wisely; one who can reach
flawless moral conclusions, but has neither the sensitivity nor the skill to carry them out
effectively.22
This is somewhat heated polemic but most of it is justifiable criticism. I have already
exampled literature and the fine arts as areas where only an attenuated form of both would
really earn their place. Martin’s reference to moral education is certainly fair comment.
Here Hirst makes a distinction between moral understanding, which is properly part of a
liberal education, and the development of moral character and commitment which extends
beyond a liberal education. Hirst is obviously concerned about these kinds of limitations,
perhaps far more so than Martin gives him credit for, but he is prepared to pay the price
because of the fundamentality achieved by his analysis. This also has the effect of making
Hirst distinguish, as already noted, between a liberal education consisting of involvement
in the discriminable forms of knowledge and a wider general education still to be separable
from specialist training:
To equate such an education (i.e. a liberal education) with ‘general education’ is also
unacceptable if that is taken to be everything a total education should cover other than
‘specialist’ elements. The lack of concern for moral commitment, as distinct from moral
understanding, that it seems to imply, is a particularly significant limitation to this concept’s
usefulness. Nevertheless, it emphasizes, by drawing them together, precisely those elements
in a total education that are logically basic, and the exclusion of all logically secondary
considerations gives it importance at a time when the ends of education are often looked
at purely pragmatically.23
That I sympathize with this attempt to find what is basic or fundamental has been made
abundantly plain; but where is the division between what is logically basic and what is
purely pragmatic and instrumental to be drawn? Hirst’s account leaves off in a peculiarly
unsatisfactory way. There is to be a class of general education which all should have and
which will have things like physical education and moral education in its full sense within
it. There is to be a smaller class of liberal education, a part of general education in the
sense that all should have it, but more limited in that it should contain only the forms of
Three accounts consideredâ•… 59
knowledge as strictly characterized. Then there might be all kinds of instrumental activities,
variously justified and presumably not compulsory for all, beyond both the former.
I have already noted the difficulty of thinking that the strict characterization of the
forms of knowledge, and the way this justifies a place for an area of ‘knowledge’, is at all
straightforward; but there are two other difficulties to note. Martin draws attention to the
fact that the term ‘liberal education’ is not neutral but value-laden. To say that something
should be a part of liberal education is to attribute a special kind of value to it. It follows
from the justification of a liberal education that I have discussed in previous chapters that
I would agree with this. Thus it is not a matter of indifference to relegate certain parts
of some activities to sit somewhere in general education but not in liberal education. To
do so is inevitably either to devalue them or to suggest that somehow the importance of
the elements to be included in liberal education is perhaps not so great as was at first
claimed. The other, and connected, difficulty is that in supposing that, as well as liberal
education, there is to be a wider general education containing elements that all should
have, a justificatory gap arises. For the liberal education components Hirst provides, as we
have noted, a justification in terms of a presupposition argument. For the general education
area, though we are told that all pupils should have the elements within it, like physical
education and the development of moral character, we are nowhere told why. If there is a
justification that appeals to common humanness in some way, and not merely to particular
instrumental needs, then surely these are parts of a liberal education too? I find it very
difficult to see what would justify the inclusion of any activity or any inquiry in a general
education for all, separable from any kind of instrumental education, that is not at the same
time being justified as part of a liberal education. This is why, up to this chapter, I have
written of a ‘liberal general education’ or, sometimes, of a ‘general liberal education’,
where ‘general’ does not only mean ‘to be taken by all’ but means also ‘of general rather
than specific application’.
In particular, I find it difficult to see why it is only to be those parts of literature, art
and morality, and other aspects of human action which can be construed as bodies of true
propositions which are to be within liberal education, whilst those parts of these areas of
human ‘goings-on’ which are the actions, makings, doings, dispositions, expressions and
interactions which give meaning, point and significance to these propositions are to be
excluded.
These difficulties are generated to a very large extent by the way in which Hirst uses the
concept of meaning. ‘Meaning’, for Hirst, is always used in the context of the meaning of
statements. He can thus always make the connection between ‘meaning’ and ‘knowledge’
mentioned earlier. For a statement to be meaningful, so the argument runs, we must at
least in some way be able to indicate what would make the statement true or false. To
analyse meaning, then, becomes an analysis of knowledge truth tests. As we shall see, Hirst
uses this conception of meaning in a sharp attack upon Philip Phenix who claimed to be
examining different kinds of meaning. Verificationist theories of meaning have run into a
good deal of criticism, often because of their empiricist or positivist connections.24 Hirst
is not open to most of these criticisms largely because he does not say what kind of truth
tests would apply, only that there must be some. When the logical positivists, for example,
suggested a verificationist theory of meaning to depend upon truth tests they also suggested
that there were only two kinds of truth test and explained what these were, namely those of
60â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
empirical observation and experiment and those of analytic logic. Hirst suggests that there
are seven but makes no serious attempt to show what these would be.
Now, of course, the meaning of statements is one important way in which we can talk
about meaning, and when we do so the relationship between meaning and the way in which
statements are to be tested for truth and falsity does seem significant. Even so one would
need to be careful about characterizing knowledge as bodies of true propositions in the
light of Karl Popper’s claim that science advances by continuous falsifying of propositions
and that verification in the sense of establishing truths is not what goes on at all. Even if we
took a slightly modified view of the relationship between the meaning of statements and
tests of truth and falsity, to take account of Popper’s views, it would still surely be wrong to
suppose that meaning only attaches to statements. Hirst more than once refers approvingly
to Wittgenstein’s ideas of meaning, language games and forms of life as reinforcing his own
ideas, but I am not convinced that Wittgenstein actually provides such reinforcement. For
Wittgenstein the meaning of words and sentences was to be seen in their actual use in more
or less self-contained language games themselves set in forms of life. In his ‘Philosophical
Investigations’ he gives examples of the multiplicity of such language games:
Giving orders and obeying them
Describing the appearance of an object, or giving its measurements
Constructing an object from a description (a drawing)
Reporting an event
Speculating about an event
Forming and testing an hypothesis
Presenting the results of an experiment in tables and diagrams
Making up a story; reading it
Play-acting
Singing catches
Guessing riddles
Making a joke; telling it
Solving a problem in practical arithmetic
Translating from one language into another
Asking, thanking, cursing, greeting, praying
and he goes on to say
It is interesting to compare the multiplicity of the tools in language and of the ways they
are used, the multiplicity of kinds of words and sentences, with what logicians have said
about the structure of language.25
The point here is that much of this is not to do with statements, yet is nevertheless meaningful
on Wittgenstein’s account. Whatever Hirst may be doing, Wittgenstein was not reducing
meaning to seven sets of charac terizations!
Perhaps more importantly, ‘meaning’ has a different kind of sense which is connected
with notions like significance and importance. It is in this sense that people can talk of
religion or art being significant in their lives or giving meaning to their lives. This sense is
not metaphorical or parasitical on the ‘meaning of statements’ usage, but is rooted in the
Three accounts consideredâ•… 61
language in its own right. The import, signification and denotation of words, and consequently
of sentences embodying propositions, is a widespread, but certainly not paradigmatic sense
of ‘meaning’ as any study of the appropriate ‘OED’ articles will show. People mean to do
things, in the sense of intention; they have meanings in the sense of purposes; and they find
meaning in the sense of finding importance or significance in something or some activity.
Heidegger, in his subtle considerations of the relation of language to the being of man,
criticizes the tendency to limit considerations of signification to the study of statements
and assertions, and suggests that a proper philosophical investigation would need to take
much more into account:
we must inquire into the basic forms in which it is possible to articulate anything
understandable, and to do so in accordance with significations; and this articulation
must not be confined to entities within-the-world which we cognize by considering them
theoretically, and which we express in sentences.26
This philosophical answer suffers from the limitation that such ideas as rationality, reason
and mind tend to be narrowly construed as referring to the processes of logical thinking.
The life of feeling, conscience, imagination, and other processes that are not rational in the
strict sense are excluded by such a construction, and the idea of man as a rational animal in
the strict sense is accordingly rejected for being too one-sided.29
The concept that Phenix proposes instead of rationality is meaning, a concept of some
importance which we have already found necessary to examine at some length in talking
about Hirst. In one sense Phenix obviously sees ‘meaning’ as a convenient word embodying
a richer conception of reason and mind than the strictly ratiocinative idea that he has
rejected; but he also has a notion of a very wide range of different meanings which are
probably not trapped at all within normal, not necessarily strict, conceptions of reason:
This term is intended to express the full range of connotations of reason or mind. Thus,
there are different meanings contained in activities of organic adjustment, in perception,
in logical thinking, in social organization, in speech, in artistic creation, in self-awareness,
in purposive decision, in moral judgment, in the consciousness of time, and in the activity
of worship. All these distinctive human functions are varieties of meaning, and all of them
together—along with others that might be described—comprise the life of meaning, which
is the essence of the life of man.30
If the essence of human nature is in the life of meaning, then the proper aim of education
is to promote the growth of meaning. To fulfill this aim, the educator needs to understand
the kinds of meaning that have proven effective in the development of civilization and to
construct the curriculum of studies on the basis of these meanings.31
In order to make this broad conception of meaning, however, into a sensible and workable
basis for a curriculum, Phenix now has a problem of selection, the more so as he believes
that: ‘Theoretically there is no limit to the varieties of meaning. Different principles of
meaning formation can be devised ad infinitum.’32 He rejects the idea of an a priori analysis
of classes of meaning in favour of an attempt to determine ‘the forms of meaning that have
Three accounts consideredâ•… 63
actually demonstrated their fecundity’.33 These he finds in the actually established bodies
of scholarly and intellectual activity bound together in communities of discourse:
Whether or not the claim of the religious believer is affirmed, the type of meaning intended
by the faithful should be clear. Regardless of the results of the search, religious inquiry
is directed toward ultimacy, in the sense of the most comprehensive, most profound,
most unified meanings obtainable. At the very least, faith refers to an ideal and a hope
for maximum completeness, depth and integrity of vision. On these minimal terms, in
which no transcendent realities are posited, everyone should be able to acknowledge some
religious meanings.35
Unfortunately, Phenix does not go on consistently to work out the implications of such an
anthropological or phenomenological approach. He is lured back into logical analysis. We
might have anticipated this since in enumerating the custodians of meaning to be discerned
within human culture there is a patent attachment to those who manipulate propositions,
rather than meanings in other forms. For example: artistcritics are mentioned, not just
artists; theologians, not just religious believers; moralists, rather than moral people; and
scientists, rather than technologists. Perhaps the areas of meaning are not being selected
quite so empirically, after all; at least there is ambiguity. The ambiguity extends into the
classification that Phenix proposes. On the one hand it is to be no more than a matter of
convenience, not really logically fundamental in some Hirstian manner:
There is no single basis of categorization that any body of material forces on the investigator.
Classifications are to some extent arbitrary, depending on the uses for which they are
intended. Since the purpose of classifying meanings in education is to facilitate learning, it
is desirable to organize the disciplines along lines of general similarity of logical structure.
In this manner certain basic ways of knowing can be described, and these may be used to
allocate studies for general education, that is, for the education of persons in their essential
humanness.36
On the other hand, the logical classification actually proposed has all the suggestion of
a fundamental, a priori classification of cognitive meaning. It just does not seem like a
64â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
relatively arbitrary device of selection. For what is proposed rests on the claim that all
cognitive meaning has two logical aspects, those of quantity and quality. Quantity can be
expressed as singular, general or comprehensive; and quality can be expressed as fact, form
Or norm. One would have thought that a full permutation of these would give nine different
kinds of meaning, but Phenix combines them into six, as shown in Table 6.1.
Phenix is quite clear that a proper curriculum for general education will enabie a pupil
to be involved at some depth in each and every one of the six realms of meaning, and it is
worth concluding this brief exposition by quoting him fairly fully on this:
A program for the curriculum of general education in schools may then be conceived as
providing for instruction in all six of the fundamental types of meaning—in language,
science, art, personal
knowledge, ethics and synoptics—over a period, say, of fourteen years, with some
opportunity for concurrent specialization where individual capabilities and interests and
social needs indicate its desirability. To achieve a well balanced program it may further be
recommended that the program be divided approximately equally among the six realms….
For example, during fourteen years of general education a student could study not
only his own everyday language, but also mathematics and one or two foreign languages.
He could study several of the sciences—physical, biological, psychological and social—
and, among the arts, at least…music, the visual arts, the arts of movement (in physical
education), and literature. He could have regular opportunities for gaining personal insight,
through a program of social activities and of work with skilled guidance counsellors. He
could have instruction and practice in making moral decisions, through the study of moral
problems and the methods of ethical enquiry consummated by responsible participation in
decision making where the common good is at stake. Finally, he could be given a thorough
Three accounts consideredâ•… 65
grounding in history and a basic understanding of religious commitment and philosophic
interpretation.38
This is undeniably a rich and attractive package; so much so that few people would deny
that recipients of such an education, conducted in the spirit Phenix clearly intends, would
have received a liberal education. The tragedy is that the attempts by Phenix to set all this
in an explanatory and justificatory framework, to say clearly, that is, why pupils should
have such a package, have been partly misguided and partly ambiguous, and have thus
provided a focus for quite destructive criticism. One of the main critics, as might have
been expected, is Hirst in the paper already noticed. Here Hirst leaves few of Phenix’s
logical weaknesses unprobed. His most damaging criticism is that the classification of
Phenix rests on a confusion, namely that there is no consistent treatment of the logical
objects of knowledge enabling them to be compared in different kinds of meaning. There
is, claims Hirst, ‘ambiguity about the objects of knowledge and appropriate classification
criteria for them’.39 Hirst is maintaining, of course, that the account he himself gives,
whereby the logical objects of knowledge are true propositions classifiable on the basis
of their necessary features of central concepts, conceptual structures and truth tests, is the
only coherent and consistent way of achieving the classification of meaning that Phenix
attempts. As compared with this, the objects of knowledge, or meaning, for Phenix are
sometimes logical but sometimes what Hirst calls ‘everyday’ objects. Hirst points to the
way in which this confuses the issue in the examples of Phenix’s realms of ‘symbolics’ and
‘synnoetics’. In the case of symbolics Hirst says:
Only if the objects of knowledge are taken to be ‘objects’ in the everyday, non-philosophical
sense, does it seem to me to be possible to assert that the domain of symbolics is that of a
distinct type of knowledge…. Symbols as such designate no logically distinct domain of
knowledge any more than any other particular ‘object’, in the non-philosophical sense,
does. A knowledge of chairs, say, may be of many different fundamental kinds, scientific,
esthetic, even moral or religious. No ‘objects’ in this sense pick out logically distinct types
of knowledge.40
A similar point is made about synnoetics: ‘Again a category of “objects” in the non-
philosophical sense is the focus of a type of knowledge, existential experience of these
being a second distinctive factor.’41 It is clear from Phenix’s own account of synnoetics that
the type of understanding he has in mind here is ‘relational insight’ or ‘direct awareness’,
and that: ‘This personal or relational knowledge is concrete, direct, and existential. It may
apply to other persons, to one-self, or even to things.’42 Since it is direct and not concrete,
what this form of knowledge or understanding does not apply to is propositions, for this
would be indirect and abstract. It is not propositions about people that are known in this
way, but people; not propositions about oneself, but oneself. Hirst is therefore right to
point out the varied types of objects of knowledge that Phenix is dealing with, and to
compare this with his own more rigorous consistency. I do not see, however, that Hirst is
right in all cases to claim that the objects dealt with by Phenix are ‘everyday’ rather than
‘philosophicar’. True propositions are not the only logical objects of knowledge generally
recognized by philosophers, as Hirst himself admits. Knowledge with a direct object
is accepted as a kind of knowledge by many philosophers, especially when discussing
interpersonal understanding. It is therefore somewhat arbitrary of Hirst to rule this out of
66â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
classificationary respectability simply because it does not fit the logical tidiness of basing
the whole thing on true propositions.
Hirst is also critical of the way in which Phenix rests his account on distinctions of
fact, form and norm. One difficulty here seems to be that, on the one hand, form and
norm are to be distinguished from facts, yet on the other they are to be classified as certain
kinds of facts. Another is that norm is limited to ethics when it seems fairly obviously to
have something to do with aesthetics, which Phenix limits to form. Further difficulties
arise from Phenix’s handling of quantity. Why, asks Hirst, are historical facts alleged to be
comprehensive when clearly many of them are singular? Is symbolics always to be general,
even in relation to mathematics and non-discursive symbolic forms?
Lest it be argued that Phenix was doing a different job, more connected to the idea
of meaning than to knowledge, Hirst is at some pains to claim that this is not so. First
Hirst claims that this is ‘quite contrary to Phenix’s own account of what he has sought to
do’.43 I am not convinced that this is quite so obvious as Hirst says, as I shall try to show
below. Hirst is concerned to show, as I have already mentioned, that ‘the categorization of
meaning is in the end a matter of categorizing knowledge or at least knowledge claims’ and
he claims that Phenix himself, ‘implicitly at least’, accepted this. Hirst does appear to make
some concessions to the idea that meaning is a wider concept than knowledge:
It is quite true that the domain of what is meaningful extends vastly beyond the domain
of what is known. For every true proposition that can be the object of knowledge there
is an infinite number of false propositions which are meaningful but not the objects of
knowledge. Even among utterances meaning extends beyond stating propositions to a
myriad of other uses of language in commands, questions, curses, etc. Actions too and
events can be said to have meanings. What is more, appreciating the meaning of something
may well at times have the kind of dimensions that Phenix outlines.44
This seems like an important acceptance of Phenix’s position. But Hirst then goes on to use
the argument we have already encountered in the previous section; namely, that meaning is
impossible without concepts, concepts have to have criteria of application and these involve
truth tests for statements that something is an ‘X’. Thus ‘the notions of meaning and true
propositions, and therefore meaning and knowledge, are logically connected.’ So meaning
does reduce to knowledge and true propositions, after all! One might question, however,
whether what Hirst has to say about the necessary connection of conceptualization with
meaning really does rebut the argument that not all that is meaningful is made up of true
propositions. For example, to utter the imperative ‘Open that door’ is to utter something
that is meaningful and yet is not a proposition, as Hirst acknowledges. Now, of course,
the concepts of ‘open’ and ‘door’ could only be operated with by one who was in at least
some sense aware of appropriate criteria for distinguishing such concepts from others,
and thus aware of the truth tests of propositions expressing such distinguishing criteria, as
Hirst also points out. Neither of these two claims appears to be controversial; it is the way
they are connected by Hirst that causes the trouble. Hirst wants to say that because of all
he has said about concepts, even though ‘Open that door’ is not a proposition, its meaning
rests on the grasping of certain true propositions asserting what ‘open’ is and ‘door’ is.
Surely what this shows is only that there is a necessary connection between meaning and
Three accounts consideredâ•… 67
conceptualization, and thus between meaning and true propositions, but not that there is
thereby a total or sufficient connection. When we note that imperatives are meaningful,
though not propositions, we are still asserting something significant; and we are certainly
demonstrating that an utterance does not have to be a proposition, true or otherwise, in
order to be meaningful. Thus we are demonstrating that the objects of meaning are not
identical with objects of knowledge, as Hirst seems to want us to suppose, though they may
have, as Hamlyn carefully puts it, ‘certain conceptual connections’.
In so far as Hirst does battle with Phenix on terms of his (Hirst’s) own choosing, there is
little doubt that he wins. Phenix’s analysis and classification is open to charges of ambiguity
and confusion and inconsistency. Most of the points vigorously made by Hirst are well
made if we assume that Phenix was attempting a classification of fundamental knowledge
in something like the same way as Hirst. Yet one emerges from the rather one-sided debate
with a strong suspicion that the victory is not somehow as complete as Hirst sees it to be,
and this is mainly because Phenix’s treatment of meaning is not exactly as Hirst sees it in
his desire to equate it with his own conception of knowledge. If one takes a more flexible
approach, deliberately seeking in Phenix’s work for a different interpretation of a more
cultural and phenomenological kind, I believe it is there to be found, often partly buried by
the misguided attempt at analysis. Let me now try to quarry this alternative view.
It is necessary for this purpose to recall what was said about meaning in the previous
section. There I claimed that the ‘meaning of statements’ sense of ‘meaning’ was certainly
not the only sense that could be given to the word, and that there was another range of
senses connected with the ideas of significance, purpose, importance and value. It is
in reference to this kind of usage that one can see an alternative interpretation of what
Phenix was doing. When Phenix says, for example: ‘This thesis grows out of a concept of
human nature as rooted in meaning and of human life as directed towards the fulfillment
of meaning,’45 this has more of a ring of concern for meaning in all that people do in their
actions and makings, rather than a concern solely for the meaning of written or spoken
statements. He further affirms that one temptation of a revival of interest in knowledge:
is to construe knowledge too narrowly in purely intellectualistic terms. The present analysis
shows that meanings are of many kinds and that the full development of human beings
requires education in a variety of realms of meaning.46
The human situation is such that mankind is always threatened by forces that destroy
meaning. Values, purposes, and understandings are fragile achievements and give way all
too readily to attitudes of futility, frustration and doubt.47
In particular Phenix appears to claim meanings in the areas of synnoetics and ethics that
are not limited to the propositional. Phenix uses the term ‘synnoetics’ to pick out the
specially direct and experiential knowledge and understanding that people claim to have of
themselves, one another and of things; and he says of such knowledge:
68â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
Thus synnoetics signifies ‘relational insight’ or ‘direct awareness’. It is analogous in
the sphere of knowing to sympathy in the sphere of feeling. This personal or relational
knowledge is concrete, direct, and existential.48
Similarly:
ethics includes moral meanings that express obligation rather than fact, perceptual form,
or awareness of relation. In contrast to the sciences, which are concerned with abstract
cognitive understanding, to the arts, which express idealized esthetic perceptions, and to
personal knowledge, which reflects intersubjective understanding, morality has to do with
personal conduct that is based on free, responsible, deliberate decision.49
Here we seem to have at least the following counted as meanings, as well as statements
embodying propositions, which would of course also be counted:
(i) relational insight;
(ii) direct awareness or apprehension;
(iii) expression of obligations, presumably in actions or dispositions;
(iv) idealized perceptions of an aesthetic kind;
(v) intersubjective understanding.
Now, of course, it is possible to argue, as Hirst does, and as indeed I have myself in
another place, that some of these claims to meaning are not very coherent claims. But,
as I have argued above, some of the claims to the status of a Hirstian form of knowledge
are not very coherent either! If the judgment of importance and value is to be at least
partly empirical and phenomenological, like Hirst’s claims to forms of knowledge status,
then it must be acknowledged that claims are extensively made for understandings and
meanings of the kind Phenix indicates. In other words, whilst Phenix’s logical analysis
may be faulty, his perception of what people actually do in their attempts to find meaning
and understanding, his grasp of the phenomenon of the human search for meaning, seems
sharper than Hirst’s.
Phenix actually gives summaries of his position in the later part of his work in which the
logical analysis is virtually abandoned in favour of an account of the phenomenologically
observable proclivities of human beings:
human nature itself supplies the clue to the minimal scope of the curriculum. Human
beings are characterized by a few basic types of functioning. They use symbols, they
abstract and generalize, they create and perceive interesting objects, they relate to each
other personally, they make judgments of good and evil, they reenact the past, they seek
the ultimate, and they comprehensively analyse, evaluate and synthesize. These are the
universal, pervasive, and perennial forms of distinctively human behaviour. They are the
foundation for all civilized existence. All of them are deeply woven into the texture of life
whenever it transcends the level of biological and social survival.
…the curriculum should at least provide for learning in all six of the realms of meaning:
symbolics, empirics, esthetics, synnoetics, ethics and synoptics. If any one of the six is
Three accounts consideredâ•… 69
missing, the person lacks a basic ingredient in experience…. Each makes possible a
particular mode of functioning without which the person cannot live according to his own
nature.50
This is not only interesting and persuasive, but it owes nothing to all the earlier analysis of
meaning into the singular, the general and the comprehensive, or fact, form and norm, which
Hirst properly criticizes. In that this thesis is separable from the unacceptable logical analysis
it is also separable from most, if not all, of the criticism Hirst has mounted against it. What
we are discerning, then, in this alternative interpretation, is a quasi-anthropological, or at
least phenomenological, investigation into the fundamental meaning-cultures of mankind.
One can criticize Phenix, of course, for muddling this up with something pretending to a
sharper philosophical focus, but we would be wrong, I think, to join Hirst in rejecting the
whole account because of this. There are two reasons for this caution.
Firstly, I have already indicated that Hirst’s own account rests much more than appears
at first sight on straightforwardly observed empirical claims to certain kinds of knowledge
status. There is no need to repeat all that has already been said on this; but, by way of example,
it is interesting to compare Hirst and Phenix on religion. Hirst is unable to maintain that
religion is a form of knowledge, with distinctive central concepts, a conceptual framework
and truth tests, since large numbers of intelligent people deny this. So the argument is that
religion should appear in the curriculum of a liberal education because many people claim
to see religion as a distinctive form of knowledge. This is empirical or phenomenological
observation. Phenix sees religion as concerned with meanings to do with the ultimate. He,
too, cannot claim that all people perceive such meanings or accept that religion is thus
meaningful. Religion would therefore be dealt with in the curriculum because a sufficiently
large number of people give to religion the meaning and significance attributed to it by
Phenix. This is empirical or phenomenological observation. The two views are not all that
different when it comes down to it. Both writers try to stretch their logical analysis beyond
what it will bear, and fall back on empirical claims for what they actually want in the
curriculum. What is wrong with both of them is the failure to acknowledge this.
The second reason for not completely rejecting Phenix’s account is that there is a
richness about Phenix’s awareness of phenomenological nuances in meaning that we shall
need to keep in mind in delineating our own account.
As with Hirst, then, I am bound to say that the account of Phenix, interesting and
sensitive though it is, will not do as it stands. The justification and analysis are ambiguous
and unclear, and much of Hirst’s criticism is justified. However, if looked at in the less
philosophical and more phenomenological way that I have described, there are insights
here to be made use of in trying to fashion a more coherent account of the content and
substance of a liberal education.
In the ideal case what is wanted for its own sake on reflection is what a man would want
for its own sake, given at least (a) that he knows of all the other things which he might
have preferred at that time and (b) that he has carefully considered priorities among the
Three accounts consideredâ•… 71
different choices, bearing in mind not only his present situation but also whether he is
likely to alter his priorities in the future. ((b) effectively rules out any preference adopted
in a state of depression, euphoria, etc.: a depressed person is shut off by his depression from
considering certain options which would otherwise be open to him.)54
Any person, considering what might be intrinsically worthwhile for him, can be in
something like this ideal position:
Knowing nothing of my wants, someone else has no grounds at all for saying that any
particular thing that I may want to do is intrinsically valuable. But I am in a different
position. Let us say that I have as broad as practicably possible an acquaintance with the
various things I might want and have reflected on priorities among these over a considerable
period and come to a settled opinion about them. I have some grounds for saying that the
ends I now prefer are the most intrinsically worthwhile since I am in something like the
ideal situation—en route, even if I can never hope to arrive there.55
White draws our attention to three important features of the intrinsically valuable as he has
described it:
First, it is something formal not substantive. We cannot identify it with any particular
pursuit or way of life, the reflective life, for example…. Second, it must be subjective in
the sense that it can only be given substantive content once one knows what a particular
individual wants in the ideal situation—and this may vary from person to person. On
the other hand, taken at the formal level, it is the same for all men, and is in this sense
objective. Third,…it is something ideal, not in any value sense of this term, but in the sense
that, strictly speaking, it may well be unrealizable because of the conditions (a) and (b).56
Such a view of what is intrinsically worthwhile enables White to dismiss the extreme child-
centred view of not trying to teach the child anything he does not at present want to know
as being irrational. What we have to do is to get the pupil as near as possible to the ideal
situation. Leaving the child free to choose now would not be the best way of doing that:
The least harmful course we can follow is to equip him, as far as possible, for the ideal
situation…. To do this, we must ensure (a) that he knows about as many activities or ways
of life as possible which he may want to choose for their own sake, and (b) that he is able
to reflect on priorities among them from the point of view not only of the present moment
but as far as possible of his life as a whole. We are justified, therefore, in restricting his
liberty as far as is necessary to ensure (a) and (b): we are right to make him unfree now so
as to give him as much autonomy as possible later on.57
Before looking at the next move White makes, which takes us closer to curriculum content,
it is worth noting how White anticipates objections. We might argue, for example, that
knowledge, reflection and autonomy are all being objectively valued and that the position
is not quite so totally subjective after all. White recognizes this and has answers to such
objections. I do not find these answers convincing and I shall return to them in criticism later.
72â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
Reflection, says White, might appear to be valued since it is necessary to work out, in
the ideal situation, what is intrinsically worthwhile for oneself:
But this is not so. Just because the man has reflected on what he most wants for its own
sake, it does not follow that the answer he comes up with must be some form of reflective
pursuit. It might be: he might decide on philosophy or writing tragedies. But, equally, it
might not be, since he might choose ten-pin bowling or swimming.58
I am not advocating any necessary commitment to an autonomous way of life. The child
‘must’ become autonomous, to be sure, on the completion of his education: this follows
from the preceding argument. But whether the pupil then chooses to stay autonomous is
up to him: if he becomes a slave or a ‘true believer’, that is none of the teacher’s business,
at least on the argument so far…. Autonomy, we might say, is a ‘must’ if we are looking
at what is educationally worthwhile; what is worthwhile in itself as an ideal of life is quite
another question.59
White himself appears to have worries about this strange position, since he returns to it in
the last two pages of the book, but his view, at this point, seems clear enough.
Like autonomy and reflection, knowledge is only to be valued (eventually) if the
person wants to value it. Knowledge must be acquired in some sense, however, even if
only temporarily, in order to be as near as possible to satisfying condition (a) of the ideal
situation. Condition (a) is only satisfied if the person ‘knows of all the other things which
he might have preferred at that time’, i.e. at the time of making a choice of what he will
value. How can a pupil, in his limited period of education, be brought into knowledgeable
contact with all the activities from which he might eventually choose? If, indeed, it was
necessary to introduce pupils to all possible activities the task would be impossible. White,
however, supposes this not to be necessary because of a convenient twofold categorization
that he believes to characterize all activities. His first indication takes all activities that
need to be learned and claims that:
A page later the two categories have changed slightly in that ‘understanding of what it is to
want X’ becomes ‘understanding of X’ as follows:
Criteria for what is to count as ‘some understanding of X’ are offered, namely, ‘either a
correct verbal account, sufficient to distinguish X from other things, or correct identification
Three accounts consideredâ•… 73
of cases of X’. The paradigm case of an activity in Category I is given as linguistic
communication; and of Category II, climbing mountains. The logical point is then easily
made since with no engagement at all in linguistic communication how could anyone
entertain any idea about it at all, let alone judge whether one wanted to value it? Climbing
mountains is clearly different, in that I could gain some idea about such an activity without
actually engaging in it.
White maintains that communication in general, mathematics, physical science,
appreciating works of art and philosophizing are important Category I activities, though
not an exhaustive list; whereas speaking a foreign language, playing organized games like
cricket, cookery and woodwork, creative activities in art and music, vocational and leisure
pursuits of innumerable kinds are all examples of Category II activities. The curriculum
implications up to this point are plain: there are good grounds for compelling pupils to
engage in Category I activities like those listed above, but there are no grounds of this kind
for compelling pupils to engage in Category II activities, at least if no other arguments
can be adduced. White notes, pertinently, that children in English schools nevertheless
are compelled to engage in Category II activities, games for example, whilst not always
being compelled to engage in all Category I activities. He deals, incisively and cogently,
I think, with a number of popular but bad arguments attempting to justify the compulsory
involvement of pupils in foreign languages and organized games.62 The issue of justification
is important throughout for White, it being just as wrong not to compel where there is
justification as it is to compel where there is not. It is perhaps necessary to point out again
that the justification here is all in the service of the ultimate liberty of the pupil.
One comes back to the principle of liberty and the justified overridings of it. If children
were left free not to speak, study mathematics, physics, philosophy or contemplate works
of art, then this might well harm them, since they might never come to know of whole areas
of possible wants, both those connected with the pursuit of these activities for their own
sake and those dependent on an understanding of these activities for their intelligibility.
It might not only harm the child to be cut off from all these possible options: it might
also…harm men in general if others were incapable of grasping what they wanted to do.
The principle of liberty may be overridden, therefore, to prevent harm both to the pupils
themselves and to men in general.63
The account of the curriculum so far, it could be argued, is rather limited, though it contains
that part of White’s proposals most frequently referred to, and also, on my view, that part
of his account which is most closely argued. The remainder of the book is much looser in
style and rather more tentative. There are, however, three important elements still to be
included in White’s curriculum: studies aimed at giving the pupil a view of diverse ways of
life; studies aimed at practical decision-making; and studies helping the development of a
moral and personally integrated life-style.
It follows from White’s subjective views about values that he sees life-styles or ways
of life as open to individual choice. So that children may come to have a free choice as
to their life-styles two things are necessary: firstly, they must be introduced to as wide a
range of life-styles as possible and, secondly, school teachers must not foreclose with their
power and influence on the possibilities opened to their pupils. The main subject agencies
74â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
for effecting the introduction are history including biography, literature including foreign
literature in translation, the study of religion and philosophy, especially ethics.
White does not only want the pupil to know about different ways of life in some general
and detached manner, but to see this as an issue significant for himself. The pupil has to
shape a coherent life-style for himself. White sees this as a blend of two ideas. The first is
that all individual things learned have to be seen in what R.S.Peters has called a cognitive
perspective, that is, with some relationship to one another and in the light of one another,
rather than in isolation and having nothing to do with each other. The second is that all
learning must relate to a ‘coherent pattern of life’ for the individual. White is at pains
to point out that the integration he is looking for here is not just a linking of everything
together in the way sometimes favoured in the sillier versions of integrated studies, but
something on the one hand more personal and on the other more social, moral and political.
The pupil, he is saying, has to come to have some coherent and integrated conception of his
own life stance, but he also has to include in his coherent view the idea that there are others
to be considered too—his coherent style, ideally, is to become universalistic.
White, like many other writers on the curriculum, believes that pupils should be
involved in practical matters, but he does not mean by this the sometimes isolated skills in
woodwork, metalwork and the like that are often meant. Rather he means skills:
which help one to understand means to ends, obstacles and ways round them. They will not
necessarily require physical skill: some understanding of economic affairs, for instance,
would seem an obvious candidate for this part of the curriculum.64
He also believes that in some way these practical studies must be integrated with the
understanding of ends hopefully produced by the studies mentioned already.
White is tantalizingly sketchy as to the curriculum implications of all this. The sketch
seems to indicate a kind of relatively sophisticated introduction to social, political and
economic affairs:
At any rate there is clearly a need at this point to work out the contours of a basic minimum
in this curriculum area other than the ones already described. It will perhaps be drawn
partly from sociology, economics, economic geography and political science; and also
partly from moral and social philosophy.65
It is emphasized that the approach to all of this should be a critical one, not leaving students
with the impression that all can only be done, ends only achieved, within the given system.
Like many other writers on curriculum matters White appears to take it for granted that all
pupils should have some kind of careers education, and he asserts that this should be part
of the basic minimum—‘an integrated part of the school’s educational activity’.
Lastly, White notes that the ends a pupil might go on to choose are not only affected
by social, political and economic factors, but by psychological factors as well. The main
concern here seems to be to acquaint pupils in some way, not necessarily by a course
in psychology, with the various kinds of psychological impediment hindering people’s
rational decision-making and determination of ends.
Three accounts consideredâ•… 75
It is now necessary to comment critically on these ideas. In doing so I shall make some
reference to White’s later (1982) work where this seems relevant to the points of criticism
I want to raise.
There are many aspects of White’s work with which I find it easy to sympathize. The
emphasis upon the need for justification echoes my own concerns. What is to be compulsory
needs justifying, repeatedly affirms White, and where there is no justifiable basis for
compulsion then the activity must be voluntary for pupils in a strong sense. That is, pupils
must be free to not do it at all. There is a weak sense of ‘voluntary’ where a number
of ‘voluntary’ subjects are offered and pupils must select one. There is little justification
for this unless the alternatives are all types or variations of some general activity held to
be justifiably compulsory. Where the alternatives are simply diverse voluntary activities,
then in the strong sense of ‘voluntary’ pupils must be free to do nothing at all if they so
wish. White’s emphasis of the logic of this important difference between what is justifiably
compulsory and what is not must surely be endorsed. It will appear radical to most schools
where little is really voluntary in quite this sense.
White’s fine sense of the place of the individual in the physical, political, social and
economic world, though not the most systematically worked out part of his account, is also
worthy of support. There is a richness of perception here compared with which some other
accounts, and many actual practices look distinctly crude. Similarly, White’s continual
emphasis on what is necessary for rational autonomy should be noted. Pupils are to be
helped to develop a coherent system of ends for themselves and to come to realize all that is
involved, not only in the individual cpmpetence to achieve the ends, but the problems and
responsibilities of achieving them within a moral and democratic system of other similarly
autonomous choosers. All this is difficult to explain and systematize, and White’s book is
too short to give all this the argued basis that he gives only to the first part of his case. Much
of it seems sketchy if sensitively illuminating.
I place last as an area of agreement that which in most discussions of White comes
first. This is his claim that if we can justify a basic minimum curriculum it ought to be
compulsory in the sense that all schools should be required to provide such a minimum
and oblige all their pupils to take it. How this is to be done is not the subject of a chapter of
content and substance, but the logic of the claim is surely not to be denied.
Despite these points of sympathy and agreement I cannot, however, say that White’s
account can stand as a coherent philosophy of content for a general liberal education. There
are too many difficulties by far, and these must now be considered.
The major objection is to the attachment of White’s view to a subjective theory of
value. In the first place White himself is not consistent. There is little doubt that White
does attach objective value to rationality and autonomy, otherwise why should he bother
to argue his case and why should he attach importance to justification? White, like the
present writer, clearly believes and affirms that teachers and administrators ought to justify
their actions and particularly the making of studies compulsory. To say that people ought
to value something—i.e. justification—is to say that there are good reasons for valuing
that something. And to say that there are good reasons for valuing it is to say that the
valuing is objective and not subjective. Whether a given individual actually comes to value
justification is, of course, a contingent matter; that one ought to value what there are good
reasons for valuing is, however, an objective matter when the reasons are demonstrable.
76â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
Similarly White clearly believes that people ought to value autonomy. His strange idea
that, once we have helped pupils become autonomous, it is then up to them whether they
remain so, as though abandoning autonomy is to be considered merely one exercise of
autonomy, clearly will not do. White himself appears to admit the oddity of this when, in
his later book, he changes his mind. The teacher he now says:
has good reasons to care that the person he has brought up to be autonomous stays that
way, unless he finds the burden of autonomy too great, reasons to do, as before, with
the conflict-ridden nature of human life, the need for some kind of resolution and the
misguidedness of trying to find ethical experts on whom to rely.66
This is, of course, sound argument; but it supports the idea of the objective valuing of
autonomy and therefore undermines the whole basis of White’s earlier construction.
Similar remarks can be made about White’s views on reflection and knowledge. Not
only are particular kinds of reflection and knowledge conceived of in subjective value
terms—i.e. mathematics is only valuable for Johnny if he comes to value it—but reflection
and knowledge, generally speaking, are also only to be considered subjectively valuable.
In other words, it does not particularly matter if a person comes not to value reflection
and knowledge, providing that educationally we had given him the opportunity. This
seems to me to be wrong generally and contradictory, particularly even within White’s
own framework of argument. Why should we value (and be told we ought to value) the
acquisition of certain kinds of knowledge and reflection necessary for autonomous choice
only during the period of education? Why should we not go on valuing them for similar
reasons—i.e. as continuing to be necessary for the exercise of autonomous judgment? The
idea that education provides the opportunity for choice, that the choice is then exercised
and henceforth only the knowledge chosen as valuable at that point is needed, seems to me
a monstrously odd idea. Surely the truth is that if I take my autonomy seriously there are
certain kinds of knowledge and reflection, broadly constituent of a rational understanding of
the human situation, that I must continue to exercise and expand whilst I continue to value
my autonomy. It is precisely the interrelated nature of the ideas of autonomy, rationality,
morality and knowledge that provides the objectively valuable aspect of them. It simply is
not the case that one can, without inconsistency, take or leave these essential characteristics
of personhood one at a time. If I am to make choices rather than mere reactions, I must
value reasons for choices. I must value, therefore, at least some amount of reasons and
reflection and the knowledge and understanding connected with such thought. The strong
point of Hirst’s arguments, whatever else we might have criticized, is his recognition of
these necessities.
White, again, appears to make a rather grudging acknowledgment of the necessity
of knowledge in his 1982 book. Here he admits the necessity of knowledge for moral
autonomy, but only in a kind of subsidiary way.67 That is to say, it is moral autonomy that is
really valuable but knowledge happens to be a necessity for it and has no value in its own
right. Similarly, White places knowledge in this necessary but subsidiary relationship with
certain dispositions and virtues that loom large in importance in the 1982 work. In Chapter
6 of this work, in which the Educated Man is characterized, White argues for the centrality
of certain dispositions and virtues as educational aims. ‘Knowledge is necessary to virtue,’
Three accounts consideredâ•… 77
he affirms, ‘but knowledgeableness is not a self-justifying state on its own.’68 The virtues
and dispositions include:
caring about one’s own well-being
being morally virtuous
being prudent, courageous, temperate, benevolent, just, truthful, tolerant and reliable, lucid,
wise, autonomous, detached, imaginative
being independent-minded oneself and sympathetic to independent-mindedness in others
being humorous, vital
having a chosen life plan.
In order, as it were, to service and support these desirable (and presumably justifiable)
dispositions, the educated man must have knowledge of:
the variety of ends in themselves
something of the means for obtaining and adopting them, and such knowledge is only to be
valued because of such service to the dispositions and virtues.
The major fault here, and it is to my mind a great one, is to suppose for one moment
that there can be this kind of separation between the virtues and dispositions on the one
hand and knowledge and understanding on the other. The virtues and dispositions favoured
by White are not just dependent upon knowledge in some trivial way, they are totally
inconceivable without knowledge and understanding. No non-knowing creature could pos-
sibly be characterized as prudent, courageous or tolerant, since all these virtues positively
embody both a knowledge of what one is doing and why one is doing it. Non-human ani-
mals cannot be humorous for precisely the same reason—only knowers can be humorous.
Independent-mindedness not only needs knowledge and understanding for what one is
being independently minded about, but the very act of being independent is an affirmation
of a certain kind of known conception of oneself: one acts out of this conception of oneself
as autonomous. It is not just that autonomy is the name of a certain class of performance or
behaviour, it is rather, as Julius Kovesi has pointed out about moral concepts,69 that autono-
mous action is only made possible by the possession of the concept. In other words I have
to know I am autonomous in order to be so. To say simply that certain kinds of knowledge
are necessary to dispositions and virtues is to understate the case in a profound way. In truth
virtues and dispositions, in the typical human case, are as much compounded of knowledge
and understanding as they are of consistencies of behaviour: indeed, we would not know
whether particular behaviours constituted virtuous behaviour unless we knew something of
the knowledge and understanding in which the behaviour was set.
Of course, the knowledge and understanding is not the whole of a virtue or a disposition,
any more than the peel or the flesh taken alone is the whole of the orange; but if that is all
White means he has unloaded a truism. Of course, also, we want people to exercise the
virtues and not just to know about them. If that is what White means, I agree with him;
but there is no need to demean knowledge and understanding in the process. Indeed, the
greater danger is that teachers will take short cuts to establish certain kinds of behaviour
seen by them to be prudent, virtuous, etc., without rooting the behaviour in the framework
of knowledge and understanding necessary for the behaviour to be really autonomous. In
brief, but most profoundly, the child must come to know what he is doing and to know why
78â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
he is doing it. All else is manipulation and a deep lack of respect for the child. White, I am
sure, would not want this, but his denigration of the place of knowledge and understanding
in his scheme of things is more than likely to lead in that direction.
As with Hirst and Phenix, then, one is left praising certain insights and illuminations
but unsatisfied with the total structure. In the case of White the confusion starts, I believe,
with his apparent rejection of objective values, but is compounded by the difficulty of
giving any coherence to parts of the thesis unless certain objective values are presupposed;
in particular, rationality, autonomy, respect for persons and knowledge and understanding.
The constant attempt by White to reject these as essentially valuable, whilst frequently
dragging them back in as necessary instruments destroys any fundamental coherence in
his theories.
Any satisfying account of a necessary content for a liberal and general education must
affirm these values as objective and build upon them. The next chapter attempts to do this.
7
The content of a liberal education
Introduction
In discussing the characteristics of a general liberal education, in attempting to justify such
an education, in outlining some preliminary ideas about content, and in criticizing the ideas
of Hirst, Phenix and White a number of guiding principles for the content and methods
appropriate to liberal education have been argued for. I list them here as a convenient
summary, together with indications of where the detailed discussions have arisen.
The contents and methods of a liberal general education must be such as to be:
1 liberating from the restrictions of the present and the particular; (3.3.1)
2 concerned with knowledge and understanding that is fundamental and general; (3.3.2)
(5)
3 concerned with intrinsically valued ends; (3.3.3)
4 concerned with the development of reason; (3.3.4)
5 of the most general (rather than specific) utility, (4.3)
6 concerned with justifiable belief and action; (4.4)
7 respectful of the pupil as person or potential person; (4.5)
8 concerned with the actions, makings, doings, dispositions, expressions and interactions
which give meaning, point and significance to propositions, and not only with the truth
and falsity of propositions; (6.1)
9 concerned with a ‘rich’ sense of ‘meaning’ rather than a solely propositional sense;
(6.1) (6.2)
10 concerned with what is objectively valuable, that is, what is justifiably to be valued.
(6.3)
It is not, of course, claimed that these conditions are logically exclusive. In fact they
overlap and interlink considerably. Neither is it claimed that every item of content and
every suggested piece of method must satisfy each and every one of these conditions. The
point of guiding principles is much more flexible than that, and the relationship between
principles and subsumed items much looser. Nevertheless the principles are principles and
have been argued for. If the theory being expounded here is to be at all coherent then the
principles listed here should not only be individually justifiable but should not, at least,
contradict one another. Similarly, an item of content or method might not necessarily have
to do with all the conditions but it must not contradict any one of them. There must be a
coherent structure in at least this sense. If the structure coheres more closely and tightly, in
terms of mutually supporting and mutually implying or presupposing ideas, as I believe it
does, then so much the better.
What kind of content structure can be built on these principles and these terms?
80â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
7.1 Underlying ideas and assumptions
I believe, like Hirst, that we must look for logical distinctions in human forms of inquiry;
but unlike Hirst I believe the number of logically distinct forms to be quite small and
nothing like in number the seven or eight that Hirst suggests. Since this chapter is to be a
positive account I shall not go over again the difficulties that Hirst runs into in claiming to
discern the number of forms he picks out.
Distinctions in the curriculum are not only to be made on logical grounds, though we
should start from there. It is perfectly proper to make judgments about content on the
purely empirical or pragmatic claim of something having been considered important,
significant, to large numbers of intelligent human beings. We might thus have a hierarchy
of distinctions to be made, where the most fundamental distinctions are logically distinct
forms of inquiry, confused only at the cost of the gravest category mistakes and consequent
misunderstanding, and where subsequent sub-divisions are less purely logical and more
to do with discerned foci of human import. There might also be a case for yet further sub-
divisions based on individual interest once we are reasonably sure that the major divisions
are being attended to. It will also be necessary to inject into this framework what I shall
call ‘the serving competencies’, by which title I mean to name those skills, understandings,
practices, facilities and dispositions without which no desire to understand, to inquire, can
be kindled, maintained, developed and serviced.
The whole of this framework, yet to be fleshed out, must serve an integrative idea—
namely that of a developing person, born into a world of persons inhabiting a physical
world understood to some extent and manipulated to some extent by persons, and seeking
to understand and operate in such a personal, social and physical world.
I must now try to construct this framework of content for a liberal and general education
by discussing in turn:
7.2 the integrative idea,
7.3 the fundamental logical division,
7.4 the serving competencies,
7.5 the convenient and pragmatic divisions, and
7.6 the place of interest.
There are two categories of identities to be reckoned with, predicating categorially different
‘orders’ of inquiry. To the first belong ‘goings-on’ the identification of which includes the
recognition that they are themselves exhibitions of intelligence: for example, a ‘going-on’
identified as itself an engagement to understand (a biologist at work,…an audience at a
play, a boy learning Latin), a ‘going on’ identified as a human action (that is, an agent
responding to an understood situation meaning to achieve an imagined and wished-for
outcome), a subscription to a ‘practice’ which requires to be understood in order to be
participated in, a work of art, an artefact, an argument, a barrister addressing a court of law,
an expression of moral sentiment, a statement of belief or of policy, etc….
To the second category belong ‘goings-on’ recognized, in virtue of their characteristics,
not themselves to be exhibitions of intelligence: for example, a rock formation, a wave
breaking on the shore, metal fatigue, a thunderstorm, a butterfly on the wing, the facial
resemblances of children and parents, a chameleon changing colour, melting ice, etc.2
Within each of these categorially distinct orders of inquiry Oakeshott also posits sub-
divisions which he considers idiomatically but not categorially different. For example,
82â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
marks on a piece of paper might be recognized categorially as manifestations of intelligence
but remain ambiguous until we can decide whether the marks constitute art, symbol (a
trademark or emblem), or a sign. Each particular idiom in both orders of inquiry will
have methods and theories constituting its particularity. For example we have ethics,
jurisprudence and aesthetics, all being inquiries into manifestations of human intelligence.
Similarly physics, chemistry, biology and psychology are distinguishable idioms, all being
inquiries into ‘goings-on’ not themselves exhibitions of intelligence. These idioms are not
exclusively separable because the distinctions are not categorial. For example, chemistry
might be reducible to physics and psychology to biology; nevertheless there are well
established differences in terms of conceptual usage, theories and methodologies.
One more Oakeshottian idea helps us to link the fundamental logical division of two
categorially different orders of inquiry to the more idiomatic and pragmatic or convenient
distinctions actually to be found in human life—this is the idea of a practice. The idea of a
practice, as used by Oakeshott, is an extraordinarily rich and illuminating idea, especially
significant in our context since education can be viewed both as itself a practice and also
the means of initiating pupils into the practices of interrelating human agents:
what joins agents in conduct is to be recognized as a ‘practice’; that is, a procedure proper
or useful to be observed and therefore capable of being neglected or violated and capable,
also, of being observed only in the chosen subscription of agents.
A practice may be identified as a set of considerations, manners, uses, observances,
customs, standards, canons, maxims, principles, rules and offices specifying useful
procedures or denoting obligations or duties which relate to human actions and utterances.
It is a prudential or an authoritative adverbial qualification of choices and performances,
more or less complicated, in which conduct is understood in terms of a procedure.3
A practice may be relatively simple or relatively complicated. Three great human practices
specifically mentioned by Oakeshott are language, morality and education:
like every other transaction inter homines, this engagement to educate is itself utterances,
actions and responses governed by a practice in which a relationship, distinguished from
all others, is articulated: the relationship of teachers and learners.4
Typically, human agents are rarely involved in mere performances, their actions rather
being governed by an understanding of an appropriate practice which can only be gained
by learning. The kind of task often referred to as ‘practical’, says Oakeshott, is not a
mere performance but rather ‘conduct in respect of its acknowledgement of a practice’.
What persons engage in within such practices are not to be seen as processes, since this
is the appropriate term for ‘goings-on’ not manifestations of intelligence, but rather as
subscription to procedures evolved by previous generations and subject to change and
fluctuation in method and perceived utility.
Here, then, is a rich conceptual view of the human situation against which to plot the
content of a liberal education; far richer than the propositional distinctions of the Hirstian
view criticized earlier. We start with a truly logical and categorial distinction of fundamental
importance whereby the two great orders of inquiry are distinguished. These two great
and fundamental orders of inquiry can then be sub-divided, but on a different basis, into
particular idioms of inquiry which are themselves the practices of human agents. These
particular idioms of inquiry, these practices, can be judged objectively but pragmatically in
terms of the importance and significance they have had for generations of human beings,
and for the significance of the meanings and understandings handed on to fresh generations
to re-assess and modify. Other practices, rooted in the results of various attempts to
understand, are not themselves purely attempts to understand but rather are the makings
and creations of human agents individually and collectively. Art and technology, for
example, undeniably practices and rooted in understandings, are not themselves attempts
to understand but rather attempts to create, to make, and to solve instrumental problems.
The essential starting point, then, in constructing the content of a liberal education, is
that some studies will be initiating pupils into inquiries and practices only understandable
as manifestations of intelligence, and other studies will be initiating pupils into inquiries
whose objects are only understandable as not being manifestations of intelligence. To start
to perceive this is the first step to intellectual liberation. I shall expand on this, and examine
the relationship of this major division to the lesser divisions subsumed under it, when I
have introduced the idea of the serving competencies.
Figure 7.1 First draft of the general ideas shaping the content of a liberal education
Another trend proper to a liberal education would be that both kinds of inquiries will increase
in the use of school time at first, but in the later stages the inquiries into ‘goings-on’ themselves
manifestations of intelligence will loom larger. Diagrams are speciously precise, but the
idea would be something like that shown by Figure 7.2. The increasing proportion of time
spent on matters concerned with manifestations of intelligence in the later years is intended
to reflect the idea, proper to a liberal education, that the world of persons is to be considered
more important than the world of things, however sophisticated the ‘things’ might be.
To counter a possible objection at this stage it is perhaps necessary to make a reminder
that I talk here solely of the content appropriate for a liberal and general education. Nothing
is said here of how a country might go about its specialist training. It may be, for example,
that liberal education, as here described, should stop at age 16 and other, more specialist
and vocationally oriented training and education, take over. This is the proper subject of
a later chapter. What we must do now is to put some more substantial flesh on this bare
skeleton.
The content of a liberal educationâ•… 87
Figure 7.2 Roughly relative proportions of time on major parts of a liberal education
is likely to at least respect the pupil as a rationally autonomous person, or potentially so,
and enhance his or her development as such, and at best is likely to enhance his or her
developing awareness of others as moral agents worthy of treatment as such.
The force of such a moral component in the judgment would be mainly the negative one
of ruling out certain activities as unworthy of study in any directly participatory way:
i.e. fighting, picking pockets, torturing and swindling—all of which have been significant
human activities in the purely statistical sense of ‘significant’.
Judging human practices on this basis will produce no absolutely clear-cut division
between those inquiries that should be compulsory and those that should not. There will be
a continuum from the highly desirable to the less desirable. It must be remembered that the
areas of the serving competencies and the humanities properly so called, which we have
already considered, would be deemed so highly desirable, and so necessary to any further
inquiries and understandings, as to be compulsory.
After this lengthy preliminary on the nature of the judgments being made it is now
possible to attempt a list of those practices, the makings and doings of humankind, that
should be included in a liberal and general education. I shall give the list first, then make
brief comments on each area of inquiry. All pupils should have some introduction, including
direct involvement in the activity where that is appropriate, to the following activities of
humankind or manifestations of human intelligence:
Social and political institutions
Economic, commercial and industrial institutions
Mathematical and logical systems
Religion and morality
Art, craft and design
Literature and drama
Music and dance
Games and physical activities
A few general points may be made about this list. The order is intended to reflect, at least
roughly, degrees of importance and thus desirability, as judged on the criteria already
referred to above. All or most of these inquiries will have a historical component, but
serving a different purpose to that of history in the humanities properly speaking, namely
that of giving a developmental perspective to the study of the particular practice—e.g. art
history, political history, economic history, history of craft and technology. Each one should
be studied as a general introduction to the practice, not as the beginning of professional
training in the practice. It is impossible to deal with any of these practices without the
conveying of some specific factual information, but the danger of the transitory nature
of such information has to be realized against the overall intention of generating general
understandings of these practices. Active participation, though necessary, also has its
dangers. For example, a pupil engaged in art in a school of general and liberal education is
studying and practising with a different purpose from that of a student in an art school. In
92â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
a school of liberal education we are not trying to produce an artist, but a human being who
has some understanding of the arts as great and pervasive human practices.
The following brief notes should be read as indicating my view of what seems important
in each of these areas. Limited space precludes the fuller treatment that is really necessary—
but this would call for a monograph on each.
Social and political institutions Some consideration of how human beings have come to
organize their social and political life. Political/ geographical divisions of the world. Dif-
ferent types of government organization and beliefs underlying them. Political parties.
Sources of conflict. Central and local government. Electoral and representational meth-
ods. Other social institutions: the family and the community. Health and welfare services.
Political and social concepts—e.g. justice, freedom, equality, fraternity.
Economic, industrial and commercial institutions Some considerations of processes of
manufacture, production and exchange of goods in trade. The role of money and a simple
introduction to financial institutions. market economies and planned economies and their
relation to political beliefs. Technological development—its benefits and hazards. Trade
unions, international and multi-national business organization. Tax and rate systems. Gov-
ernment and economics.
Most of the matters under these first two headings are not taught systematically in many
schools at the moment, though they may be encountered in courses of modern history
and in some aspects of geography. Some students, of course, do study constitutions or
economics but these are normally optional courses selected at the expense of others. What
is suggested here is that these matters should be part of the curriculum of a liberal educa-
tion for all pupils because they involve human practices of great significance affecting all
people in a very pervasive and general way, whatever else they as individuals might choose
to do. I do not argue, as some do, that an informed democracy depends upon knowledge
and understanding in these areas, though there is some truth in this claim. The larger truth,
however, is that these are the major practices of humankind everywhere in some form or
another. The adult community therefore has a duty to initiate the young of the community
into an understanding of these practices, not just as a simple initiation or indoctrination
into the particular or favoured practices of the community, but as a wider initiation into a
framework of understood alternatives from which the particular community has presum-
ably chosen.
It might be objected that these matters are all too complex to be understood by young
people below the age of, say, 16. This is an odd argument. If these matters are indeed
complex then surely they need prolonged consideration, and one could certainly start
this consideration long before the age of 16. No person ever becomes suddenly capable
of understanding the complexities of social, political and economic life, at whatever
age; but to start some systematic reflection on these matters whilst still in the relatively
detached atmosphere of the classroom at least promises a wider enhancement of such
understanding.
Another objection is the susceptibility of these matters to indoctrination, where this is
taken to mean the teacher influencing pupils to share his or her belief on issues known to be
controversial. This danger cannot be denied but is not in itself a reason for excluding such
The content of a liberal educationâ•… 93
content. Any danger of teacher indoctrination must be weighed against the ever-present
danger of indoctrination from other sources, especially radio, television, newspapers,
parents and friends. Looked at this way the possibility of teachers being less partial than
these other sources of information and opinion looks more promising, especially if teachers
themselves are aware of indoctrinatory dangers, as increasingly they are.11
Mathematical and logical systems An introduction to simple mathematics and measure-
ment, it will be remembered, was to be an important part of what I have called the serving
competencies, necessary for all pupils. What is now suggested goes much further than this.
Humankind has created great symbolic systems of thought which have become ways of
thought in themselves as well as having increasingly wide applications. Number systems,
orderings within space and time, algebra, probability and statistics are not discoveries of
non-intelligent realities in the world, they are creations of intelligence proposing ways of
ordering our experience and thought. They are, in this sense, as much intelligently created
‘goings-on’ as art or politics, and can be studied as such. This is their main liberal educa-
tion purpose and should not be confused with all the vocationally oriented quantitative
and logical applications to industrial and commercial training, which give the enterprise a
completely different purpose and are not properly part of a liberal education.12
Religion and morality I have already said that some study of religion is necessary to under-
stand the attempt by humans to understand themselves, as is some involvement in a consid-
eration of morality. Both religion and morality can also, however, be inquired into as great
human practices. Indeed, for most people, without religious and/or moral considerations
there would be no overriding framework of consideration from which to approach inqui-
ries into social, political or economic matters. This is further to emphasize the point that
the divisions between these practices are not logical but idiomatic, divisions of significant
focus of attention. I do not mean to suggest by linking religion and morality together that
they are necessarily linked. A person can clearly be moral (and immoral) in ways other
than religious ways, and according to principles not dictated by religion. That they can
be so separated, whilst for some people not so separated, is one of the things that pupils
must come to see. A liberal education does not set out to make pupils religious, but neither
does it set out to prevent them so becoming. It does and should set out to bring pupils to
some understanding of religion as a great influence in historical and contemporary affairs.
With morality the liberal educator is somewhat less neutral since, presumably, we do want
pupils to become moral rather than immoral as well as coming to understand the nature of
morality. This was the peculiar dichotomy in the Hirstian account, where it was supposed
that initiation into a logically distinct understanding of morality was a proper part of liberal
education, whilst the development of moral character was not such a proper part yet nev-
ertheless ought to be attempted for all pupils. What is suggested here, in contrast with the
Hirstian view, is that it is precisely through a proper understanding of morality, its point
and principles, that a pupil (ideally) would come to act morally. The development of moral
character is a proper task of liberal education provided it is undertaken in certain ways
themselves compatible with the principles of liberal education—that is, by methods which
are moral, rational and respectful of the personhood of the developing pupil.13
Art, craft and design For many men and women the greatest significance in their lives has
come from making and creating. The challenge to produce something pleasing, useful,
94â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
symbolically meaningful—or in various combinations of all three—has led to the making
of some of the most treasured possessions of humankind. At a more humble level this chal-
lenge has also led to the development of taste in everyday living concerning, for example,
domestic architecture, furniture, domestic tools and utensils, gardens and town-planning.
All forms of such making involve design and problem-solving in some kind of way, and
all involve some combination of practical skill with aesthetic and functional judgment—a
sense of what is pleasing and proper. Typical problems are those of the visual artist in creat-
ing the illusion of three-dimensional space on a two-dimensional surface, and those of the
technologist in turning ideas into the realities of feasible production.
Pupils undergoing a liberal education must be given some introduction tp these
enterprises but choices within them present some difficulties to the curriculum-planner.
The division between what is to be compulsory and what voluntary becomes a matter of
importance here. I would suggest the following principles:
(a) All pupils should have some regular involvement with art, craft and design activities
from 5 to 16.
(b) All pupils should have some real instruction in the use of drawing as a tool—i.e.
simple representative sketching and the production of simple sketch plans.
(c) All pupils should have an extensive introduction to the visual arts on a wider basis,
both making and appreciating.
(d) All pupils should have an extensive introduction to domestic design and making.
This would involve simple introductions to architecture, furniture design, fabrics and
furnishings design, utensil design and garden design. This only sounds over-ambitious
if we make the mistake of thinking that nothing of this kind can be studied unless
appropriate practical work accompanies it. There should, of course, be as much
practical engagement in making as is reasonably possible, but we should not avoid
some study of, say, architecture on the grounds that the pupils cannot build houses!
The general aim would be to bring pupils to a closer understanding and appreciation,
both aesthetic and technological, of the humanly made objects which surround them
in their daily lives and the possibilities of enriching such surroundings.
(e) There should be a wide range of voluntary art and craft activities which can additionally
be studied where pupils wish to.14
Literature and drama Created fictions, I have already said, form an important part of the
humanities properly speaking, that is, those inquiries in which we seek to understand not
just particular human practices but human understanding and agency itself. This is to use
literature, and a very important task of liberal education this is. But literature and drama
are, of course, great human practices which pupils ought to come to know about and be
involved in as practices. There are three main aspects to these studies: pupils need to study
in a systematic way selected works of literature and drama as exemplars of what is held to
be good in the practices; they need to be involved in readings and performances of dramatic
works and to see and discuss performances of such works; and they need to have some
experience in creating fictions themselves in various forms. To pick up a point well made by
John White there is every reason for selecting from works of foreign literature in translation
as well as from English literature. It is also important to develop the idea that the creation
of poetry and prose works is an ongoing human activity and not something to be studied
The content of a liberal educationâ•… 95
solely historically. At least some contemporary writers should be studied and discussed.
Again the aim should be the general one of bringing pupils to some understanding of the
nature of literature and drama as human practices, not the production of writers or poets. It
would be the hope of liberal educators that all pupils would become readers, not of course
in the merely mechanical sense of being able to read but in the wider sense of wanting to
use reading as the main means of sharing in human understandings and imaginings, and
continuing to do this long after leaving behind the requirements of school.
Music Though there seems little doubt that a liberal education should include some intro-
duction to music on the criterion of its significance in human life, there is considerable
difficulty in determining exactly what to do when one moves on from the general assertion.
Here there is a greater tangle than usual of different emphases and different considerations
of what is more and less desirable. There are three main ways in which a person can be
involved with music:
(a) by coming to know about and understand music by hearing it (recorded and live) in a
context of explanations and information of a more or less historical and technical kind;
(b) by performing music in some way, either by singing or by performing on an instrument
of a traditional or electronic kind, either by oneself or with others;
(c) by composing (making) music, either in the traditional sense of writing for performance in
some agreed convention or by creating music in some more extempore or less formal way.
It is not the job of a general liberal education to produce executant musicians or composers,
however desirable these may be, for this is the task of specialist training. The main task of
a liberal education in respect of music is therefore that indicated by (a). This, however, is
not all that simple since some involvement in (b) and (c) is greatly facilitative of achieving
the understanding in (a). The guiding rule should be that involvement in (b) and (c), as
compulsory activities at least, should only be taken as far as is necessary to serve the
purposes and objectives of (a). The aim is the widest general understanding of music for all
pupils. It is not, essentially, the creating of specific performances or the fostering of specific
individual talent. This is not to suggest anything wrong with either of these activities, only
that they should be desirable voluntary extras and not the main contribution of music to a
liberal education.
Dance, games and physical activities other than those mentioned under the serving
competencies are good examples of what would count as borderline activities for me.
They are undeniable human practices of some significance. There should certainly be
opportunities for them in the facilities provided for schools. They fall, however, on the
voluntary side of the line for me! I cannot believe that a pupil should be compelled to play
football or hockey, or to engage in physical activities like gymnastics or dance if he or she
does not want to. In the case of competitive games, particularly, I have argued elsewhere
that there are other reasons why these should not be compulsory for any given pupil.15
There are, of course, in addition to all those now mentioned, a vast range of human
activities which are undeniably practices and undeniably of some significance. To start
to consider these, however, would be to move on to those activities only involving some
people, whereas those considered above, it is claimed, are practices in some sense affecting
all people. There is clearly room for a good deal of variety between schools as to the
96â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
voluntary activities that might be offered, based on the skills and interests of the staff and
parents. All pupils, however, in all schools, should be introduced to the major practices of
humankind outlined above.
unless the pupil is freely choosing to develop an interest he or she already has, a value
already present. Another writer, M.Bonnett,19 whilst not wanting to monopolize the concept
of education in quite this kind of way, nevertheless attaches the greatest importance to
the opportunity for a child to operate with authenticity out of the genuine concerns of
the constitutive core self, and rates this as of greater importance than the acquisition
of knowledge in the development of autonomy. Indeed, generally pervading the very
influential, if not always clearly articulated, ideas of child-centred education is the claim
that children must somehow be free in education, and not simply be in a state of tutelage or
preparation for freedom in the future.
Looked at from one point of view this cluster of ideas could make the delineation of
content appropriate for a liberal education a redundant exercise. For, it could be argued,
the choice of content should be the pupil’s own, otherwise freedom is denied and the
development of autonomy frustrated. I want to argue that this is a false characterization of
the child-centred position before going on to indicate some of the important truths that are
to be found in that position.
The falsity of the claim about choice of content lies in the assumption, often implicit
rather than explicit, of a subjective theory of values—i.e., the idea that there is nothing
to be called valuable other than that actually valued by an individual. The whole point of
the account of an appropriate content for a liberal education outlined in this chapter is the
justificatory argument that has accompanied it in terms of what is involved in understanding
one’s place in a world of persons and simultaneously a physical being in a physical world.
The content of a liberal educationâ•… 101
If this justificatory account is sound then the objective value of the described content is
claimed. This is just another way of saying that if one does not value the understandings
listed then one ought to. One ought to value an understanding of persons; one ought to value
an understanding of significant human practices; one ought to value an understanding of
the physical world, and so on. The ‘ought’ here is a kind of moral ‘ought’, concerned in the
case of adults with duties to oneself. In the case of children, however, the duty attaches to
responsible adults on behalf of children, and the choice of content, in broad terms at least,
is not the responsibility of the child.
The truth in the child-centred claim lies in its correct characterization of real
understanding and real knowledge. Understandings are inevitably individual and knowledge
is only genuine where the individual grasps the warrant or reasons for holding beliefs to
be true beliefs. For a teacher to assume that understandings and knowledge can somehow
just be imposed on the pupil whatever the state of mind of the pupil is a misconception
that has bedevilled education since teaching began. If understandings and knowledge are
to be achieved then the way particular developments of understanding and knowledge
come about is significant. It is for this reason that the present interests and concerns of
the pupil are important, for it is on to these present interests and concerns, and onto the
conceptual frameworks in which such interests have their being, that any fresh knowledge
or understanding has to be grafted in some way. It is not true, I am claiming, that completely
fresh interests and concerns cannot be developed. If this were true then no education would
be possible. It is true, however, that any fresh interest or concern, any new development of
knowledge and understanding, can only come about by some kind of relationship with the
conceptual frameworks, the mental structures, already possessed by the pupil. This idea is
no mere truism and will need extensive development in the chapter to follow.
A further truth of the child-centred position is a point about motivation. The claim is
that a pupil will work harder, concentrate more, be more generally inclined to apply him
or herself to the task in hand, if the task is one of interest to the pupil. This has all the
appearance of some empirically confirmed discovery but is in fact largely conceptual or
definitional. What I mean by this is that what it means to be interested in something is to
want to pursue it, to spend time on it, to find out more about it, and so on. Thus to say that
I am more inclined to spend time on things that interest me is no more than to say that I
am more inclined to spend time on things I am inclined to spend time on! The real truth
lurking behind all this is the importance for educators of engendering in pupils the kind
of appropriate dispositions discussed in 7.4. It is an educational task to engender concern,
care and interest for justifiably worthwhile endeavours.
Yet a further extension of this line of thought is the claim that pupils will be more
motivated to engage fully in activities and content that are self-chosen than in those chosen
by others. This is a different point from the claim that pupils need to exercise choice in
order to develop their autonomy, and it is certainly not merely a conceptual or definitional
point. Observation, however, does not lead me to believe that the truth of this claim is at
all obvious. For one thing children often choose one activity only to pass quickly on to
another, so self-selection in itself appears to provide at least no immediate guarantee of
sustained interest and attention. Another consideration is that the very phrase ‘self-selected’
is deceptive. How do ideas and activities which I might conceivably develop come to me
for consideration in the first place? The answer, presumably, is that such presentations
102â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
come in a multitude of ways: some by pure chance or accidental contiguity, but many
by more deliberate encounter through books, magazines, radio, television, friends and,
of course, teachers. There is also a complex story to be told of why some of these hold
my attention and grow into more developed concerns and others do not. Of course part of
this story is to do with my constitutive core self, compounded of my present concerns and
interests. I have, as it were, no other self from which to encounter new experiences; no
other self from which to conceptualize, understand and know. But this core self is not static.
It has developed and will continue to develop, and is therefore alterable. Novelty itself is
attractive and motivates many activities and changes of activity. People strive deliberately
to develop new activities and to this end often welcome the presentation of new ideas and
proposals from others.
All this is but a sketch of the confusions attaching to the place of interest in education.
What emerges, I believe, is that there is no need for immediate pupil control of the
determination of the broad content of a liberal education; indeed, there is strength in the
opposed view, namely, that all pupils should be involved in all the areas deemed to be
important by convincing justificatory argument. There should, to be blunt, be an extensive
compulsory core curriculum. Beyond this there is no reason why schools should not have
facilities for offering all kinds of activities and studies to be chosen on the basis of personal
interest. The charge at the moment, regarding English schools, is that the compulsory and
common core is neither broad enough nor lasts long enough to be a satisfactory general
and liberal education, and that the choice area comes too early and is too large a part of a
young person’s curriculum.
What emerges also is that problems of motivation are not essentially problems of choice
of content, but methodological and strategical problems of pedagogy concerned with how
to engage pupils in what is demonstrably worthwhile. This is a main concern of the next
chapter.
8
The methods of a liberal education
8.1 Introduction
Although the idea of a liberal education is appropriately attached to certain kinds of
curriculum content rather than to others, it is equally importantly attached to certain
teaching styles, strategies, methods and intentions rather than to others. Even if an item of
curriculum content was carefully selected from the body of such content already discussed
it could fail to constitute a part of liberal education by the manner in which it was taught.
The reason for this concern for teacher style, strategy, method and intention is connected
with our initial characterization of, and justification for, liberal education. Liberal education
has been characterized in this work as that education which is liberating from the ties
of the present and the particular, concerned with knowledge and understanding which is
fundamental, general and intrinsically worthwhile, and concerned with the life of reason.
Methodological considerations also arise from the ethical nature of the main justification
of liberal education that has been given. In dealing with this justification I said:
the moral duty of adults to children is reasonably clear and has two parts. The positive
part is a duty to help children, in all ways possible, to become increasingly rational and
autonomous up to the point where the moral duty to do this for themselves might reasonably
be expected to take over. The negative form of this duty is an obligation not to allow or
encourage the social environment to foreclose on the possibilities and life-styles open to a
child’s future as a rational and autonomous being.1
We thus have a number of considerations which point to treating people in certain ways
rather than in others while they are being liberally educated; or, to put it more strongly, in
order to be sure that they are being liberally educated. We must teach in such a way as to
liberate people and not bind them or restrict them; so as to bring about in them genuine
knowledge and understanding rather than the possession of some rote repertoire; so as to
bring about real concern for what is justifiably worthwhile; so as to bring about concern
for and competence in the life of reason; and so as to ensure that pupils are respected, and
come to respect themselves and others, as rational and autonomous persons. We must try to
avoid teaching them in ways that act against these intentions.
It is tempting to write about each of these desirable intentions in turn. In fact, however,
they are by no means so easily separable as that, since any given action or style of a
teacher is likely to bear, for good or ill, upon more than one of these considerations.
I shall therefore discuss the methods of a liberal education under the following three broad
headings: teaching for evidence, teaching for understanding, and teaching for care.
104â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
8.2 Teaching for evidence
Knowledge properly speaking, I have said, is best conceived of as justifiable belief. To
know is to have a belief that I can be reasonably sure about because of my grasp of the
evidence or warrant which justifies the belief. Belief in itself is simply a state of mind in
which I give assent to certain propositions or to the appropriateness of certain actions.
Beliefs, as a matter of psychology, can be held with varying degrees of strength of
conviction, as Anthony Quinton has pointed out, and this strength of conviction has no
necessary connection with evidence or justification.2 A person is rational, Quinton reminds
us, to the extent to which his or her strength or belief is proportionate to the understood
logical justification of those beliefs. A person of strong convictions is not necessarily a
person of strong rational convictions.
These distinctions are connected with the idea of liberation in education. To have a
strong belief X, which is not based on an understood justification, is either not to know
why I believe X, or it is to hold the belief for some reason that does not in itself amount to
an understood justification. A common reason of this kind is to believe X because someone
else has told me of the truth of X—a teacher perhaps. There are certain matters on which
the say-so of someone else would be quite appropriate as evidence for my belief. For
example, my belief that my wife has toothache, held on the grounds that she says so,
is a perfectly rational belief. These cases are special cases, however, pertaining to self-
knowledge which cannot be communicated in any other way. There are other matters on
which we commonly accept the say-so of others because these others are held to be experts.
These matters might, for example, be those of law or medicine. On these matters we assume
that the knowledge—i.e. the stock of justifiable beliefs—is greater with the experts than
it is with us. We do not so much obtain our knowledge from the experts as come to hold
beliefs on the basis of their knowledge. For example, my doctor knows that my symptoms
indicate the presence of gall stones, and I believe him because I have grounds for trusting
his claim to know.
Now the relationship between a pupil or student and a teacher could be considered to
be like that between patient and doctor, or between client and lawyer, in respect of beliefs.
The teacher has a stock of knowledge and the task of getting pupils to come to believe
the propositions embodied in this knowledge, as the doctor and lawyer have stocks of
knowledge out of which they try to get their patients and clients to believe certain things.
This, however, would be a grossly inappropriate model for the teacher-pupil relationship
in liberal education because of the liberal educator’s duty to liberate rather than to bind
students.
It is only to the extent that the knowledge I operate with is genuinely mine that
I am liberated from intellectual dependency and can be autonomous. It is undoubtedly
necessary, in a complex civilization, to be dependent in certain respects upon the technical
knowledge of others; but there is also no doubt that to the extent I am thus dependent my
autonomy is diminished. To be dependent for all or nearly all my beliefs on the knowledge
of others, however, would be to live in a strange state of paradoxically civilized barbarism.
The paradox arises from the fact that the knowledge might well be sophisticated and
technical, the product of an advanced society, whereas the barbarism arises from the lack
of distribution of such knowledge, most people holding such knowledge on the say-so
of others. In this respect people would live in a similar mental state to that of primitive
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 105
tribesmen relying for their beliefs on the unexamined utterances of witchdoctors and the
hand-downs of ancestors.
Liberal education is not merely the exercise of letting pupils see what is known and to
believe what they are told and shown, it is the exercise, as far as is possible, of getting pupils
to actually know, and that is to get pupils to steadily expand their own stock of justifiable
beliefs. Another way of putting this important idea is to say that obtaining beliefs from the
knowledge of others, as from the doctor or lawyer, may in certain ways be very helpful
but is never educative. Beliefs only become educative, at least in the sense of liberally
educative, when they are taken in, assented to, in certain ways rather than others. That is
to say, beliefs must be entertained and assented to on the basis of understood justification
if they are to be liberating by being educative. If I understand the justification for a belief,
see the point of the belief, then I am liberated from whatever was the source of the belief,
teacher, textbook, parent or whomsoever. The liberating aspirations of a liberal education
can only be met, therefore, by teaching in a way that aims at getting pupils to grasp the
appropriate evidence for beliefs as well as the beliefs themselves. We might describe this
as teaching evidentially, or evidential teaching.
Not only are the liberating aspects of a liberal education met most satisfactorily
by teaching evidentially but so also are our concerns for respecting the pupil. It will
be remembered that in 2.3 the idea of respect for persons was linked with the idea of
justification in two ways. The first way was that the treatment of persons by persons always
calls for justification, and the second way was that to treat someone with respect as a
person must always involve treating that one as a reasoner and a justifier, i.e. as a creature
for whom justification matters. The discussion in 2.3 was summed up as follows:
Education involves the influencing of some people by others and therefore calls for
justification; but because the subjects of education are persons no educational practice
will be justifiable that fails to recognize these subjects as actual or potential reasoners or
justifiers.
Now to conceive of pupils as either not to need justification for the beliefs they are required
to assent to, or to conceive of them as capable of assenting to the beliefs but not capable of
grasping the justifications, is exactly to fail to respect them in the sense picked out in 2.3.
It perhaps needs no demonstration to show that as well as making for intellectual
liberation and respecting pupils as persons evidential teaching of course satisfies the
characteristic of liberal education as involvement in the life of reason. This must be so
since reason is essentially to do with believing what there is good reason to believe, and
only such, and doing what there is good reason to do or at least no reason for not doing.
There is a further point about the cluster of ideas connected with knowledge as justifiable
belief and the evidential teaching that goes along with it. This is a point about truth and
certainty. In 5.4 I drew attention to J.S.Mill’s concern that truths should not be handed on as
what he called ‘dead dogma’ even though the teachers saw them as unquestionable truths.
I take J.S.Mill as meaning by ‘dead dogma’ the passing on of these truths with no concern
to involve pupils in the evidence supporting such ‘truths’, and this is quite in accord with
what I have been arguing. But there is another side to the idea of ‘dead dogma’ which is the
belief in the idea of ‘truths’ being sufficiently well established to be no longer questionable.
106â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
What Brand Blanshard has happily called the ‘rational temper’3 would not accept that there
are many areas of knowledge and understanding where such certainty is warranted. The
very word ‘certainty’ is itself used in a variety of ways, as Quinton again reminds us.4 At
least the following four different senses of ‘certain truths’ can be seen in use:
(i) individually and psychologically indubitable beliefs,
(ii) what everyone appears to believe,
(iii) scientific beliefs as yet not disproved about which there appears to be no reasonable
doubt, and
(iv) demonstrable and unchanging logical truths.
However strongly, in the purely psychological sense, a belief is held by one or many
persons this provides no grounds whatsoever for passing such beliefs on to pupils as
unquestionable. It is not unknown for large numbers of people to hold false beliefs quite
strongly. Although there may appear to be no presently available answer to the question
‘Why is X to be believed?’, nevertheless the question is very properly put. Similarly,
that something is believed by very large numbers of people, whilst it properly makes
me question my scepticism, is no reason for the unquestioning transmission of the belief
as true.
Scientific ‘truths’, especially in our age, often are accepted as unquestionable once the
‘truth’ is allegedly demonstrated by duly qualified scientists. One does not need to be
a fully convinced Popperian, however, to see that there is no logical necessity for these
‘truths’, that science advances to tomorrow by refuting the ‘truths’ of today, that final truths
do not appear to be reached, and so on. No pupil could be properly introduced to scientific
inquiry on the assumption that he was entering a domain of indubitable truths.
This appears to leave the area of logical truths as the only area in which a full-blown
notion of certainty can be entertained. There is a sense in which we could say that
logical truths are certain. Unless the meaning of the symbols has changed (4×7)=(30−2)
is indubitably true. Even this, however, does not justify us in passing on such truths as
unquestionable since we want the pupils, as well as ourselves, to see why such propositions
are to be believed, and, indeed, why they are to be believed indubitably.
There are thus two further reasons for teaching for rationally justifiable beliefs by
evidential teaching. Firstly, because in most areas of knowledge our beliefs can be no more
than rationally justifiable, though they ought to be no less; and secondly, because even
where truths do seem certainly established by their logical nature they will only come to be
held as justifiable by those who come to understand the justification, those who in Mill’s
words come to them as ‘living truths’ rather than ‘dead dogma’.
There are different kinds of arguments supporting the practice of evidential teaching and
the bringing about of rational beliefs which are to do with the effects on liberal educators
themselves rather than with the pupils. These arguments are not concerned with logical
necessities but with the likely effects upon teachers of one conception of their task as
compared with the likely effects of a different conception. For example, a teacher concerned
to teach evidentially, with attention to the justification of the beliefs he is involving
pupils in, is more likely to continually refine his own understanding of the appropriate
evidence and its relation to the belief, and this continual attention to evidential structures
is likely to make such a teacher a better explainer. Such a teacher will have more regard
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 107
for the effect of teaching on the mental structures of pupils and be less concerned about
the rote regurgitation of isolated ‘facts’. Our evidential teacher, too, will have a sharper
realization of the varying status of evidential claims across different kinds of knowledge
and understanding, knowing that the justification of beliefs in some areas like religion,
morality and politics is far less clear and agreed than in areas like science and mathematics,
and vary teaching strategies accordingly. In assessing and examining a teacher concerned
in this way will distrust the value of testing factual recall and strive to find other ways of
getting at the more complex structures of the pupil’s understanding.
There is one more consequence of teaching for rational belief rather than in some sense
of conveying fixed truths. Beliefs entertained evidentially, rationally, are always in principle
entertained temporarily. That is to say, they are always open to change on the presentation
of further relevant evidence. The rationality of pupils, or anyone else for that matter, is
to be judged by the relationship of their beliefs to the evidence that they are known to be
acquainted with or that they can reasonably be expected to have been acquainted with. It
is this thought, presumably, that lies behind Jerome Bruner’s oft-quoted claim that any
knowledge can be introduced to any pupil at any age with intellectual integrity. Many
of the beliefs of earlier generations about the structure of the universe, the shape of the
earth or the working of the human body were neither irrational nor non-evidential, but
simply based, and often very sensibly based, on the evidence available to them at the time.
We sometimes now try to take pupils beyond the evidence they can grasp and thereby
force them into a rote and non-meaningful learning situation. It is sometimes supposed
that Piaget has told us that children cannot reason or think evidentially until they reach the
formal operations stage. This, of course, is not the case. The Piagetian claim is rather about
the nature of the evidence that can be grasped and the impossibility, at an early stage, of
children considering evidence hypothetically, or abstractly rather than concretely.
Teachers should not therefore worry unduly about the simple explanations that children
must necessarily be involved in at first. As long as such explanations are reasonable and
understandable, and seen by pupils to be based on certain kinds of evidence, then the
procedures, though simple, are rational and evidential. For example, young children might
well be trained more in applying the evidence of their own sight and hearing before they
come to modify this with magnifiers, microscopes, radio and telvision and the like. They
might calculate and reason themselves before seeing how calculators and computers might
help to extend their skills. They might be led into inquiry about their own past and that of
their family, their friends and their locality before simply being told about the Romans, the
Napoleonic Wars, or whatever. They might be more engaged in talk about why they like
or dislike books they read, before being told what is good and bad and why—and so on.
The principle, I think, is clear. That beliefs thus formed will require modification as further
things are learned and further experriences encountered will come as no shock or surprise
to pupils who hold their beliefs evidentially because of appropriate teaching.
8.2.1 Indoctrination
I refer briefly to the concept of indoctrination mainly because there has been so much
discussion of it in the literature of philosophy of education in recent years. Much of this
discussion has been purely definitional and conceptual, addressing itself to the question:
108â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
‘What ought properly to be called indoctrination?’ The ‘Oxford English Dictionary’ gives
no indication of the derogatory connotation that the word has come to have in educational
discourse. The main meanings given are: to imbue with learning, to teach, and to imbue
with a doctrine, idea or opinion. It would be to chance very grave misunderstanding indeed
to use the word with these neutral meanings now in educational company where the word
has a clear derogatory sense. Whatever else indoctrination might mean, educators seem
agreed, on the whole, that it is bad. What they are not agreed about entirely is what it is
about indoctrination that makes it bad.5
I have no intention of reviewing the semantic arguments here, but behind most of them,
I believe, is the common ground, not always made explicit, that to indoctrinate someone is
to get that someone to hold a belief in ways and on grounds that are non-evidential. There
might be many reasons why a person would wish to do this to another, or it might be done
quite unintentionally: the nature and consequences are the same, i.e. the recipient comes to
hold a belief that is just ‘one superstition the more’ rather than to hold a rational belief. It has
been suggested that the essence of indoctrination lies in the intention of the indoctrinator to
implant an unshakeable belief.6 I cannot see that the procedure is any the less indoctrinatory
if there is no such intention but the teaching is none the less non-evidential; but it must be
agreed that the consequences of the non-evidential inculcation of beliefs often do seem to
be that the belief becomes very fixed, contrary to the relative openness of the way in which
rational beliefs are held. The reason for this is not too difficult to see. If a belief is not held
on the basis of supporting evidence anyway, then the adducing of evidence or argument
to change the belief will hardly be of much avail. And of course it is not, as any one who
has tried to combat religious or racial prejudice by rational argument will know—the word
‘prejudice’ simply being another name for beliefs and attitudes held non-evidentially.
The term ‘indoctrination’, then, is a convenient label, though by no means a necessary
or essential one, for certain kinds of teaching which stand opposed to the ideal of evidential
teaching urged in the previous section. This would be teaching where the teacher might
be concerned that beliefs are justifiable but is not concerned to involve the pupil in that
justification, either at the level of acquaintance or understanding. Much indoctrination in
this sense goes on in school with no malicious or pernicious intention, but solely because
of teachers’ own beliefs about lack of time to involve pupils in evidence, the pressure of
overloaded syllabuses, or the alleged incapacity of pupils to cope with evidential learning.
Such a widespread concept, whilst it clearly excludes evidential teaching from its
meaning on the one hand, also on the other excludes—must be distinguished from—the
kind of teaching where the teacher has no regard that the beliefs being transmitted are
justifiable at all. This would be the teaching of known falsehoods. One hopes that this is
not so common as indoctrination but it always remains a possibility, especially where, for
political and other reasons, it is deemed that other considerations than truth are overriding.
The appropriate term here, also with its own historical journey from neutrality to derogation,
is ‘propaganda’.
We have so far conceived of three broad ways in which educators might set out to bring
about beliefs or to influence and change beliefs:
(i) with no concern that the beliefs are justifiable at all—i.e. lying or propaganda,
(ii) with concern that the beliefs are justifiable but no concern to involve pupils in the
evidence—i.e. indoctrination, and
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 109
(iii) with concern that the beliefs are justifiable and that pupils should come to grasp the
evidence that warrants the beliefs—i.e. evidential teaching.
The liberal educator, I am claiming, should practise (iii)—evidential teaching, as far as is
possible with additional aspects yet to be considered.
A liberally educated person might well be able to sing, measure, play the piano and use
a lathe. It would not be a function of liberal education, however, to ensure that a person
became a trained singer, a trained measurer, a trained pianist or a trained lathe operator.
The second reason for supposing teachers’ suspicion of training for skills to be well
founded is the association of the word ‘training’ with some kind of unthinking performance
repeated and developed by varieties of simple imitation or conditioning. The model here,
presumably, is animal training which necessarily is characterized in this way; but the idea
is also associated with crude forms of human training practised, in the past at least, in
the armed forces and in schools. There is little doubt that large number of human beings
have been induced to perform—behave—in certain ways rather than others by techniques
involving force, threat of force, unpleasantness, reward, authority, conditioning or extrinsic
motivation of some kind. They have, in a strictly pejorative sense of the word, been
‘trained’, and it is this connotation of ‘trained’ which fills many educators with unease,
and properly so.
Now it could be argued in respect of this second reason for unease about training for
skills that it is largely a historical argument having no present force. Training is not now
like that, it might be said. Trainers are much more efficient and less crude and involve
trainees much more in understanding what they are doing. There is no doubt some truth
in the claim that these kinds of things are done better now than they were. Training in the
armed forces, for example, is highly efficient and often brilliantly conceived, though it is of
course very specific, intensively practised and at least likely to be used for some time in a
sustained way. In schools the picture is more confusing. Attention to overt performance and
unthinking obedience and compliance is still high in some places and in some activities.
To the extent that it is not like this, and to the extent that pupils are involved in fitting
their performances into a framework of knowledge and understanding, then to that extent
we could say that liberal education is going on. It is also true to say, however that the
extent to which such knowledge and understanding is involved is perhaps a measure of the
inappropriateness of the word ‘training’ to name what is going on.
As with the teaching of beliefs, then, the teaching of practical activities in a liberal
education should be, as it were, evidential. That is to say: the activity, the performance, the
actual behaviour, should always be in a setting for the pupil such that it involves appropriate
knowledge and understanding in some wide sense. The activity should also be in a context
where the focus, both for teacher and pupil, is on the way in which the activity itself aims at
some knowledge and understanding appropriate to a liberal education, not just at some kind
of proficiency in the activity. Two examples might make the point rather more concrete.
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 111
Following the publication of the Newsom Report7 in 1963 many schools introduced
courses for young school-leavers based on motor cars. These courses could be seen as
nearer to or further from liberal education on the criteria I have tried to explicate above.
Those courses furthest away from liberal education concentrated on rudimentary driving
skills, necessarily rudimentary because the driving was in school grounds and not amongst
other traffic, and on simple maintenance like wheel-changing and attention to oil and water.
To these activities was often added the rehabilitation of old vehicles which introduced the
pupils to some mechanical skills connected with the repair of motor cars. The instruction
on these courses was very specific and very ‘cook-book’ in nature—that is to say, the pupils
were shown specific procedures to produce specific results. Those courses a bit nearer the
liberal education ideal had more concern for getting pupils to understand things in general
about motor cars with some attention to the general principles of the automobile engine,
transmission systems, and so on. Other courses, yet more liberal in their educational
intentions, used a study of motor cars as examples of even more general principles of
mechanics, chemistry and electricity with applications well beyond the motor vehicles
themselves. One course I saw even used cars and driving as focal points for moral and
social problems discussed with moral and social education in mind.
What we see here is a continuum from crude training on the one extreme to general
education on the other. It should be clear that from the point of view I am trying to argue
(and from others also) drivers and motor mechanics are best trained in institutions other
than schools of general education, and any focus on cars in such schools should only be to
facilitate certain kinds of general understanding.
The rather derogatory use of the expression ‘cook-book’ to describe certain kinds of
instruction in the last paragraph but one points readily to a further example. Cookery can
certainly be taught in a liberal education sense since it properly comes into an understanding
of nutrition, health and the properties of vegetable, animal and other materials when mixed,
compounded and subjected in various ways to heat and liquids. Unfortunately it is by
no means always taught in this kind of way but rather by the simple replication of given
recipes with minimal understanding of what is going on. Successfully cooked products
can, of course, be produced this way. What needs emphasizing is that it is understanding,
not successfully cooked products, that is the proper aim of liberal education.
8.3.1 Explaining
Perhaps oddly, the word ‘explanation’ appears frequently in the indices of books on the
philosophy of history, the physical and the social sciences but far less frequently in those
of education, even of philosophy of education. For example, an Open University reader,
‘Conceptions of Inquiry’8, has over twenty-five references to ‘explanation’ in a book of
334 pages, whereas the ‘Second Handbook of Research on Teaching’9, unhelpfully, has one
reference only, and that misnumbered, in a work of 1,400 pages.
The fact that there can exist ‘explanations’ of matters which can be deemed right or
correct in some sense quite independent of any particular person’s grasp of them, and
which will be appropriately discussed under headings like scientific explanation, historical
explanation or explanation in the social sciences, can lead to odd conclusions in the
literature of pedagogy. For example, we find Thomas F.Green saying, in his generally very
helpful book on The Activities of Teaching’10:
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 113
It is an important fact, however, that whether an explanation is good or adequate can
be decided without considering whether anyone learns from it. In other words it can be
assessed independently of its consequences for learning. An explanation will be a good
one if it accounts for what is to be explained. If it is well constructed and without logical
faults, then it is a good explanation even when it is not understood by anyone except its
author…. Whether reasons are good or adequate to support a certain belief depends upon
the logical properties of the relation between the belief and its reasons, and not on the
psychological fact that someone happens to accept the reasons. Therefore, an explanation
or demonstration of a certain belief may be a good explanation or demonstration even
though, unfortunately, no one learns from it.11
Green, of course, is not foolish enough to consider that this is all there is to teaching.
The teacher must be concerned to bring about learning and this involves, for Green,
considerations of strategy as well as of logic.
Now there is certainly some truth in all this if we allow the meaning of ‘explain’ to be
monopolized in the way used by the philosophers of science and history. But this is by no
means the only justifiable way, as the ‘OED’ well demonstrates. The natural home of the
concept of explaining does seem to be in the context of a person explaining to one or more
other persons; and in this context an explanation could not be considered adequate unless
grasped, understood, by the recipients. Rather, therefore, than thinking of an adequate
explanation which is somehow not understood, like those successful operations where the
patient nevertheless dies, it seems preferable to suppose an adequate explanation to satisfy
two conditions: firstly, the coherence, consistency and logic internally manifested by the
explanation in relation to what it seeks to explain; and, secondly, the satisfactory resolution
in the mind of the recipient of the explanation of the puzzlement or lack of understanding
which necessitated the explanation. In other words, the teacher as explainer needs to know
both his subject and his pupil. Yet another way of considering this is that where a teacher
explains something to a pupil there could be two appropriate judges of the adequacy of the
explanation: one could be an expert authority on the subject, that is, on the logic of what is
to be explained; and the other, importantly, must be the pupil himself, for only he can know,
in one sense of ‘understand’, whether he has understood or not.
I say that in one sense of ‘understand’ the pupil is the only appropriate judge. This is the
sense, given in 5.5, where ‘understand’ contrasts with ‘not-understand’. It is in this sense
that only the pupil knows whether he has established a meaningful pattern of relationships
in his own mind about the object of the explanation, or not. There was, however, another
sense of ‘understand’ given in 5.5 which contrasted with ‘misunderstand’. In this sense
what is important is whether the pattern of relationships formed in the pupil’s mind is not
only meaningful but correct. A constant complaint of lecturers, teachers and writers, is
not so much that no sense is made of what they say and write, but that the wrong sense is
made—not the sense they intended. In this sense of ‘understand’ the pupil is not likely to be
the best judge of his own understanding and some kind of assessment or judgment would
have to be made by a teacher or other authority. It should be noted, however, that what
constitutes a correct understanding is not equally clear across all areas of the curriculum.
It is not very helpful to the liberal educator to suppose, as Green does, that one side of
this necessary symbiosis is a matter of logic whilst the other side, the satisfactory reception
114â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
of the explanation, is only a matter of psychology and therefore of teacher strategy. That a
pupil fails to grasp the excellently logical explanation of the teacher, always supposing the
explanation given to be so, is not sufficiently accounted for by saying it is a psychological
matter. On the account so far given we can suggest two ways in which the explanation
might be inadequate in this respect. Firstly, the explanation relates in no significant way to
the conceptual and propositional frameworks already present in the pupil’s mind. There is
nothing strange about this: if I have not been successfully introduced to the rudiments of
algebra it will be very difficult for even an excellently clear exposition to explain quadratic
equations to me in any direct sense. There will simply not be anything relevant in my mind
onto which the explanation might latch. Secondly, even if the relevant and necessarily
presupposed framework does exist in the pupil’s mind there might nevertheless be a lack of
concern, a lack of care about the enterprise of trying to understand further; or there might
be a diversion of care and concern, previously devoted to the kind of understanding the
teacher was trying to bring about, because other matters are now seen as more significant
or overriding. It is the second of these two causes of inadequacy that raises the problems
of motivation normally considered to be psychological and to call for appropriate teacher
strategies for motivating pupils. I can think of little more frustrating to the pupil than to use
the motivating techniques appropriate to the second of these difficulties when the problem
is simply the first: in such a case the more successful are our motivating techniques the
more frustrating will be the outcome, since the pupil will be all the more concerned to
understand what he cannot without the necessary prior learning.
I shall discuss more fully problems of motivation in the next section, but one connected
point, well raised by John Passmore12, is properly placed here. I most genuinely and
naturally seek explanations, seek to understand, when I am puzzled by something. This
puzzlement can arise because of the frustration of my everyday endeavours not essentially
connected with education, and John Dewey emphasized this connection between reflective
thinking and the problem-solving necessitated by real endeavours and activities.13 Passmore,
however, makes the different but surely important point:
that a teacher will often need to get his pupils puzzled in order to teach them….
In general, the unpuzzled child is a child who will understand very little. And there may
be nothing in his environment, outside the schoolroom, to encourage him to be puzzled.
Making him puzzled is the first, essential, step towards helping him to understand.14
A teacher seeking to teach for understanding, then, will need to:
(i) be aware of the state of the present understandings of individual pupils being taught;
(ii) have logically adequate understandings himself of what is being taught;
(iii) be a skilful explainer of what is being taught in that
(a) he marshalls presentations logically and coherently, and
(b) relates them well to individuals’ present understandings;
(iv) be aware of areas of understanding where correctness matters and misunderstanding
is possible, and know how to assess for correct understanding; and
(v) be able to generate puzzlement in the minds of pupils when it is not already there.
There is a little more to be said about point (v). In discussing this point Passmore uses the
teaching of philosophy as an example to illustrate the necessity of puzzlement. Pupils, he
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 115
says, often have to be helped to become puzzled about, say, the idea of democracy, before
any analysis or discussion of the concept can be fruitful. This is certainly true; but there
is another consequence of this truth that Passmore does not mention but most teachers
of philosophy, especially philosophy of education, will have encountered, and which
generalizes to all attempts to get pupils puzzled. It is this: to be puzzled is to realize the
limits of my present understanding which is incapable of solving the problem, whatever it is.
If this occurs in the pursuit of my own private activities or interest my failure to understand
does not, or need not, affect my self-esteem, my respect for my own understanding.
I can always change my interest to something more readily understandable. But if I am a
pupil, and the teacher deliberately engenders puzzlement within me, where there was none
before, whilst at the same time allowing me no escape from the particular activity, then
whatever ultimately follows the immediate effect is likely to be a considerable deflation of
my self-esteem. This harmful effect is made much worse if the subsequent explanations of
the teacher, designed to clear the obstacle he himself has planted in my mind, patently fail
to do so! I am now left:
(a) more confused than I was before, and
(b) more doubtful about my own capacity to understand than I was before.
Immanuel Kant recognized the problem a long time ago, and expressed his view of the
moral duty of all who, like teachers, would try to correct the errors of others:
Hereupon is founded a duty to respect man even in the logical use of his reason: not to
censure someone’s errors under the name of absurdity, inept judgment, and the like, but
rather to suppose that in such an inept judgment there must be something true, and to
seek it out. In doing so, one should at the same time expose the deceptive semblance (the
subjectivity of the grounds determining the judgment, which were held by mistake to be
objective), and thus, while accounting for the possibility of error, preserve the mistaken
individuals respect for his own understanding.15
I conclude from all this, not that we should not try to get pupils puzzled about things as
a necessary prelude to developing certain kinds of understanding, only that we should be
careful how we do it. Anxiety produced by puzzlement can be motivational up to a point,
but thereafter it becomes counter-productive and can destroy or seriously diminish the
self-respect Kant properly urges us to value. If a pupil’s respect for his own capacity to
understand is lost, then so far as liberal education is concerned, all is lost.
I have argued elsewhere16 that certain conclusions about teaching arrangements can
be drawn at least in part from the points about understanding necessarily taking place in
individual minds and the inescapable variance in abilities to understand quickly or slowly.
I believe there to be arguments connected with these points, with the idea of equally valuing
all pupils’ self-esteem, and with certain ideas of social justice, that would favour a large
amount of teaching in mixed-ability groups, but would also suggest that those subjects
involving individual understanding and not essentially involving group activity should be
taught mainly by individualized learning techniques. That is to say, they should be taught
by methods allowing for individual variations in rates of understanding.
116â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
8.4 Teaching for care
To care about anything is to value it and to treat or respond to it in a way appropriate to its
valued characteristics. Care manifestly involves attention and interest. Although care has
an affective aspect in the person doing the caring, i.e. a feeling of valuing something, and is
therefore to some extent subjective, the notion also implies an objective appropriateness of
treatment or response. For example, to care about a gramophone record, whilst it involves
handling it gently, trying to preserve its playing qualities by keeping it dust-free and
unscratched, also involves playing it from time to time and enjoying its contents thus made
audible. Merely to preserve the record, in an unplayed pristine state, would not really be to
care for it or value it as a record. To care for literature implies that one actually attends to
literature, reads books and poems, tries to find out more about the techniques of literature;
and it also implies that one actually wants to do these things. To care for a person implies
that one values that person as a rational agent and treats them accordingly, doing things that
respect the person as a rational agent and enhance the person’s own respect for themselves
as a rational agent, and to want to do so. Of course such care also involves treating the
person as a living being, seeking to maintain their physical comfort and well-being; but
one might do as much for a pet cat or dog and real care for a person must involve more
than that.
If all values were subjective the connection between education and caring would be
necessarily limited. It might be possible to claim that there are certain things a pupil must do
in order to know what he might choose to value or care about in the future, but there would
be no case for trying to get pupils to care about anything save in the barest of instrumental
ways. My argument has taken a different path and I have argued for the objective value of
those understandings found to be significant in human collective development. Studying
these things, I have argued, is demonstrably worthwhile—pupils ought to study them. If this
is right then it also follows that pupils ought to come to care about these understandings,
to share in their significance, to value them for themselves. The liberal educator on my
account therefore has a difficult job. He has not only to get pupils to know, understand
and be able to do certain things, but he has to get pupils to care about these knowings,
understandings and doings.
This is not a new thought in education. Subjectivism and relativism have not always
been so widely assumed in education as they are now, and the fact that the objective
worthwhileness of what was being taught entailed getting pupils to care about the subject
was the more general assumption of the past.17 This was not always matched, unfortunately,
by methods appropriate to generating care in pupils. This kind of concern for care all
too often became transmogrified into excessive and pedantic obsession with carefulness,
which often meant neatness and obedience to formal and sometimes pointlessly arbitrary
prescriptions having no relationship to the real value of the subject or the learning. This
kind of perverse misunderstanding is nicely caught by John Passmore in his excellent
chapter on these matters:
There once used to be teachers of English composition who were mainly concerned that
their pupils should draw neat red lines at the appropriate distance from the edge of the page
and that the compositions they submitted should contain no cancellations. The pupil who
wrote feebly went unrebuked, the pupil who crossed out a word to substitute a better word
The methods of a liberal educationâ•… 117
was the victim of his teacher’s wrath. Such a teacher completely failed to appreciate—
perhaps because he thought of himself as training ledger keepers—what sort of carefulness
was his proper concern. Neatly ruled lines, tidy pages, are extrinsic forms of carefulness
in relation to the writing of good English. The choice of the appropriate word, in contrast,
is an intrinsic form of carefulness. The pupil who crossed out a word to substitute a better
one was the careful student, the pupil who let the feebler word remain was the careless
student.18
Passmore is not saying, of course, that neatness of presentation is not a justifiable virtue.
The important point that I am making, and I think Passmore is too, is that to care for
something is to attend to its important characteristics, its valued characteristics, its truly
characterizing characteristics, with affective conscientiousness. One cannot, for example,
be a good scholar without some concern for neatness and order, both in thought and
presentation, but nevertheless these are but the instruments of scholarship, they are not
what scholarship is.
This isn’t a school! It’s a place where those kids can find out once and for all what they’re
up against, where the ruling class says in no uncertain terms to them, ‘Forget you! You ain’t
going nowhere! Go on and learn to tap-dance or be a jitney girl, because you ain’t going
nowhere!’1
These are words from a fictional character in a novel, but Young and Whitty suggest
that most large comprehensive schools would have at least one representative of such a
view on the staff. They probably exaggerate, but they provide a good example of what
I mean. Similarly, and on the other side, as it were, difficult analyses of the relationship
between the provision and control of education services and the economic well-being of a
124â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
country can result in simplistic claims that state education should be largely instrumental,
producing amenable and potentially skilful workers and consumers with a favourable view
of wealth-creation, technological growth and the particular forms of political and economic
management obtaining in the state.
Recent statements from the Department of Education and Science and from Her
Majesty’s Inspectors in England and Wales attempt to assert a view of the curriculum in
which the personal development of the pupil is balanced in some way against what is often
called ‘the needs of society’. This straddles and confuses the issues of justification raised in
earlier chapters of this work and supposes that ‘the needs of society’ are easily discernible
and non-controversial. These statements, important because increasingly they articulate
the intentions of government, lack any clear argument or support for the liberal education
case and therefore leave the ground relatively uncontested for the powerful instrumental
pressures to have their way.
I intend to discuss three aspects of these challenges to the idea of a liberal education laid
out in this book so far. Firstly, I shall discuss the modern form of the utilitarian challenge.
Secondly, I shall look at a sociological view of the nature of knowledge that would
seriously question any kind of objective statement about the universal value of certain
kinds of knowledge and understanding. Thirdly, I shall discuss the view, mainly Marxist,
that in a capitalist state education can be no more than the reproduction of the ideology that
capitalism generates for its own survival. It is suggested that these three challenges raise
issues of increasing complexity and theoretical significance as we proceed from the first to
the third. They also deal with increasing degrees of what one might call ‘hiddenness’ as we
proceed in the same direction, in the sense that arguments supporting utilitarian aims for
education are often quite overt, whereas the forces of ideology, by their very nature, are not.
It is perhaps necessary to make some disclaimers about this selection of challenges. I am
not, for example, saying that they are logically exclusive of one another; in fact they have
a good deal of interconnection with one another, but nevertheless present conveniently
separable foci of treatment. Neither, of course, is this an exhaustive list of challenges,
only my judgment of some important ones. Each of the challenges has already generated a
considerable literature of its own, and this might make the treatment of them here seem an
exercise of supererogation (if the critic is kind) or an exercise of arrogant and presumptuous
superfluity (where the critic is more harsh). It seems necessary to me, however, to treat
these challenges from the particular point of view of their relationship to the offered view
of a liberal education. For the finer points of dispute within each of these challenges, and
they are many, I must refer the reader to the references and notes.
It should be clear from what has already been written and argued that the word ‘liberal’ in
my phrase ‘liberal and general education’, whilst it cannot avoid all political connotation, is
not intended to have either the very direct association with any political party that includes
the word ‘liberal’ in its title, or to be simply associated with what might be called western
liberalism as against conservatism or socialism or whatever. Actual governments, of all
political views, have done some things conducive to a liberal education and many things
inimical to it. No political party that I know of stands overtly for or overtly against the kind
of liberal education I am arguing for. The issue is nothing like as simple as that. What is to
be argued is that in so far as any political view is supposed by its supporters to be rationally
justifiable, then it should necessarily include liberal education in its programme; but that is
likely to be somewhat cryptic without the argument of the next three chapters.
9
The challenge of economic utility
It has in recent years become ‘a truth universally acknowledged’ that education should be
more closely linked with the world of work and with the country’s economic performance;
and there has been increasing pressure on schools to assess the relevance of their curriculum
to their pupils’ future working lives.
In particular the HMI document is arguing for a revised view of teacher training. Whilst
acknowledging that teachers need to instil in pupils a sound basic education and an ability
to work with others, and that they need as a first priority to be able to teach their subjects
well, the HMIs nevertheless go on to say:3
Initial training institutions should also make positive efforts to ensure that future teachers
understand the part that their subject plays in the economic and cultural life of their society,
and that they have sufficient understanding on the economic foundations of that society,
and the role of industry and commerce in wealth creation, to be able to pass on to their
pupils both information about and respect for industrial and commercial activity.
Presumably the inculcation of respect is not seen here as indoctrinatory because of a surprisingly
naive view of the value of industrial and commercial activity being non-controversial. This
126â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
continues a trend developed in earlier documents. For example, a consultative document
produced by the Secretary of State for Education and Science and the Secretary of State for
Wales in 1977 was able to assert that an aim of schools that ‘the majority of people would
probably agree with’ was ‘to help children to appreciate how the nation earns and maintains
its standard of living and properly to esteem the essential role of industry and commerce in this
process’.4 Admittedly this was only offered as one aim among eight which included aims like:
to help children develop lively, enquiring minds; giving them the ability to question and to
argue rationally, and to apply themselves to tasks;
to instil respect for moral values, for other people and for oneself, and tolerance of other
races, religions and ways of life;
to help children understand the world in which we live, and the interdependence of
nations;
to help children use language effectively and imaginatively in reading, writing and
speaking.5
These aims, with perhaps some qualification, are not necessarily incompatible with the
aims of a liberal education. The issue is really one of emphasis: ‘understanding’ the
economic and political structures of a country leaves open the possibility of differing
critical perspectives, whereas ‘respecting’, ‘properly to esteem’ and ‘appreciating’ all have
a normative tone indicating a clearly and overtly instrumental purpose antithetical to the
idea of a liberal education.
The desire for schools to exercise an overtly utilitarian function is seen differently by
parents and pupils on the one hand and by politicians and employers on the other. Parents
and pupils expect schools to prepare pupils for jobs, for what the Secretaries of State refer
to as working life. Politicians and employers tend to think more in terms of international
or inter-firm competitiveness:
Underlying all this was the feeling that the education system was out of touch with the
fundamental need for Britain to survive economically in a highly competitive world
through the efficiency of its industry and commerce.6
In either case the view of the proper purpose of schooling as instrumental is clear, and
given much more emphasis than other purposes, even though these other purposes might
be adumbrated.
In documents that have followed ‘Education in Schools’ the tension between a broadly
liberal view (generally more espoused by HMIs) and a stronger emphasis on utilitarian
views (generally more espoused by the DES and by politicians) has become more marked.
Two documents appearing in 1980 indicate the difference of emphasis, though it should be
noted that on matters like the desirability of a compulsory core of curriculum elements there
was much more overlap. A statement entitled ‘A Framework for the School Curriculum’,
by two new Secretaries of State, after arguing for a wide range of curriculum elements
continued the earlier theme:
substantial attention should be given at the secondary stage to the relationship between
school work and preparation for working life. Pupils need to acquire an understanding of
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 127
the economic basis of society and how wealth is created. Close links between the schools
and local industry and commerce are valuable in this context, but also have wider benefits.
Particular attention should be given to the place of careers education and guidance for all
pupils, including the most able and those in the sixth form…. Systematic careers education
should begin not later than the third secondary year, and it is normally desirable that it
should occupy a specific place in the timetable.7
The other 1980 document, however, produced by HMIs and entitled ‘A View of the
Curriculum’, seemed much more cautious and liberal on the point of career anticipation:
The capacity of young people to profit from whatever opportunities may be available to
them beyond 16 will depend heavily on the education they have experienced up to that
point. Awareness of this is an important responsibility for all concerned with the 11–16
curriculum. On the other hand, an excessively instrumental view of the compulsory period
of education runs the risk of actually reducing pupils’ opportunity at a later stage, by
requiring premature assumptions about their likely futures—for example in highly specific
occupational terms—and by narrowing the educational base on which their potential may
be developed.8
Two further relevant documents appearing in 1981 continued the official discussion on
curriculum matters. The Secretaries of State produced a definitive view on the matter in
‘The School Curriculum’, which was followed later in the year by Circular 6/81 enjoining
local education authorities in England and Wales, and school governors ‘to encourage their
schools, within the resources available, to develop their curricula in the light of what is
said in The School Curriculum’, and claiming that: ‘These views will be reflected in the
Government’s policies which bear on the school curriculum.’9 The School Curriculum’ is
thus an important statement likely to influence the curriculum of schools in England and
Wales for some time to come, and is worth noting in some detail. The document undoubtedly
maintains but also extends and enhances the utilitarian emphasis in a number of ways. To
start with the list of aims set out in ‘Education in Schools’ has become altered in a number
of small but indicative particulars.10 The aim of helping children to appreciate and esteem
the essential role of industry and commerce has now become conflated with another aim
‘to help pupils to acquire knowledge and skills relevant to adult life and employment in a
fast changing world’. Language, which was in the earlier document to be used effectively
and imaginatively, is now conjoined with number and is only to be used effectively! An
early aim, ‘To teach children about human achievement and aspirations in the arts and
sciences, in religion, and in the search for a more just social order’, is reduced to ‘to help
pupils to appreciate human achievements and aspirations’. Physical skills are added to
those tasks that children might properly be helped to apply themselves to. These changes
are slight, hardly to be noted on a first reading, and only noteworthy because they are all in
the direction of sharpening up the instrumental style and because they are unargued. What
is left out is imagination and social concern; what is added is further talk of effective and
instrumental skills. The emphasis is even more stark in the pages dealing specifically with
the secondary school curriculum. This starts with three propositions about the secondary
curriculum: firstly, that it should be planned as a whole; secondly, that it should have a
common core; and thirdly, that:
128â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
education needs to equip young people fully for adult and working life in a world which
is changing very rapidly indeed, particularly in consequence of new technological
developments: they must be able to see where their education has meaning outside the
school.11
Although choices are made, and have to be made, at the end of the third year, every pupil
up to 16 should sustain a broad curriculum. The level, content and emphasis of work will be
related to pupils’ abilities and aspirations, but there should be substantial common elements.
These should include English and mathematics, whose vital importance schools already
recognize in the time and attention they devote to them. To these should be added science,
religious education and physical education: in addition pupils should undertake some study
of the humanities designed to yield lasting benefit and should retain opportunities for some
practical and some aesthetic activity. Most pupils should study a modern language, and
many should continue to do so through the whole five year period.12
Of marked significance here is the brief reference to the humanities, the significance
deriving from the fact that this is the only reference to the humanities in the document. This
is to be compared with a page on science, over a page on modern languages and substantial
paragraphs on mathematics, micro-electronics and craft, design and technology. A long
section on preparation for adult life, which might have been about morality and knowledge
and understanding of persons and personal relationships, in fact reasserts the by now well-
worn claim that:
the curriculum needs to include some applied and practical work, particularly in science
and mathematics; and pupils need to be given a better understanding of the economic base
of our sbciety and the importance to Britain of the wealth creating process13
and goes on to advocate better and more systematic careers education and guidance.
A section on English, although mentioning the word ‘literature’, nevertheless treats the
subject as essentially to do with instrumental skills and says nothing about literature as an
insight into the imaginative understanding of the world of persons.
The whole style of this important official document is an interesting but ambiguous
blend of the overt and covert advocation of the utilitarian purposes of education in the
service of a particular view of the relationship between society, education and the state.
The deeper and more profound mechanisms that might be operating here must await our
discussion of ideology whilst we consider some further relatively overt expressions.
The other 1981 document was produced by the Schools Council and its title, The
Practical Curriculum’,14 was perhaps unfortunate. Such a title looks as if the matter to be
considered is activities like physical education, woodwork and cookery. This would be
a complete misunderstanding since the work aims to discuss the whole curriculum in a
practical way! The kind of curriculum advocated here is, in fact, a highly liberal one and
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 129
makes little reference to the needs of society, industry and commerce so dominant in the
other documents I have considered, though it does get carried away with skills talk, as
I shall show.
My point so far has not been to describe these documents in detail, but only to indicate
my view that there is an articulation in government statements of a specifically instrumental
view of education, revealed as much by the assumptions, implications and omissions as by
the more explicit utterances. It is also interesting, and perhaps encouraging, to note that
where HMIs, academics and teachers themselves have produced statements (‘A View of
the Curriculum’, ‘The Practical Curriculum’ and ‘Curriculum 11–16’, DES, HMI Working
Papers, London, HMSO, 1977) the tone has been markedly more liberal. Social historians
can sometimes have a happy and interesting time tracing the lines of development leading
to these differences.
Another way in which recent successive governments have set up mechanisms for the
penetration of schooling by a specifically instrumental view of education is to be seen
in the growth and influence of the Manpower Services Commission, and especially of
its Training Services Division and Special Programmes Division. These divisions of the
MSC have been mainly concerned with providing industrial training schemes for young
people in the 16–19-year-old age range, partly because of a declining provision of such
training by industrial organizations themselves, and then increasingly because of sharply
rising unemployment among young people and the difficulty of finding jobs on leaving
school. Even to provide vocational training for some 16-year-olds while others of the same
age were receiving a different kind of education in school threatened the continuation of
comprehensive liberal education beyond the age of 16; but very recent statements have
indicated an attempt to move vocational education down to the age of 14, and even to set up
special schools under MSC funding if the local education authorities in England and Wales
failed to make provision. The Times Educational Supplement reported:
The Government wants courses to be mounted for pupils in a wide range of ability. It is not
prescribing the content, or whether the courses should be provided wholly in schools or in
a combination of schools and colleges. But it insists that they should lead to a recognized
qualification in technical, computer or business studies, or in the manual trades.15
Resisting the charge that he wants to narrow down the curriculum for the non-academic
pupil the chairman of the MSC, Mr David Young, a property banker, claims that his aims
are just the opposite and not so different from those being put forward by such innovators as
the Further Education Curriculum Development Unit. These claims are not very reassuring
to liberal educators on two counts. Firstly, the published work of the Further Education
Unit can hardly be said to be liberal. The influential document, ‘A Basis for Choice’,16
which proposed a programme for post-16 pre-employment courses suggested that such
courses should include (i) core studies, (ii) vocational studies relevant to a given sector of
employment, i.e. ‘building and construction’ or ‘hotel and catering’, and (iii) job specific
studies. The only one of these offering any promise of continued liberal education would
seem to be core studies, but the listing of the components of such a core soon brings
disappointment to anybody with such expectations:
130â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
The core as a whole should provide opportunities for the young people to develop:
– practical numeracy
– the ability to communicate
– the ability to learn from study, experience and colleagues
– social skills and understanding in a variety of contexts
– self-confidence, self-awareness and adaptability
– a variety of manipulative skills and physical skills
– their awareness of various technological, environmental, political, economic and
aesthetic factors which affect their lives
– a basis from which to make informed and realistic career choices
a nd it should do this in (the) context of their intention to enter the world of work in the
near future.17
It is the direct relationship to vocation that is supposed to provide the motivation for these
students that courses in their ordinary education at school had allegedly failed to provide.
There is, of course, something in this, but only if the training is for a job that one has at least
some reasonable chance of actually doing on the completion of the training. Without that
assurance the very rationale of vocational preparation and its connection with motivation
surely collapses.
A large amount of the material from the Further Education Unit is orientated towards
a skill training approach which appears in its turn to be heavily influenced by behavioural
objectives thinking much debated in educational circles throughout the 1970s. Those
supporting a behavioural objectives view believe that teaching and learning objectives
are only meaningful if they are expressed in terms of directly observable performance
or behaviour. It is significant that educators on the whole have been critical of this view,
seeing it as limiting and restricting, while trainers of various kinds have tended to espouse
the view.18 Examples of the transfer of understandings into skills can be seen in the
following from an FEU publication on ‘Vocational Preparation’ where it is suggested that
understanding society can be assessed in these performance achievements:
– h as examined what is at stake in a given issue, the vested interests and the decision-
making procedures involved
– has experienced membership of a decision-making group and has observed a decision-
making group in action
– has developed background knowledge necessary for general understanding of national
and local government
– has identified personal legal rights, with use of reference books where appropriate, and
knows how to act on them.19
The narrow utility tone here is obvious. These items have little to do with any genuine or
profound understanding of society and certainly do not constitute a refutation of charges
of narrowness. The message throughout this and other FEU documents is that a reduction
of knowledge and understanding to skills is to be favoured, that function-related learning
is to provide motivation, and that the important functions to provide this motivation are to
be work-related ones.
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 131
The second count on which the chairman of the MSC fails to reassure a liberal educator
about charges of narrowness is that we have already seen censorship of courses where there
have been attempts really to develop the critical power of the students, especially where
that critical power was turned onto a consideration of the unemployment position of the
students or onto the nature of the courses themselves. A report in the ‘Times Educational
Supplement’ tells us:
The MSC district officials have been told to ensure that everyone running a YOP project
understands that political education must be limited to studying and discussing institutions
like Parliament and the trade unions… Particular care should be taken to avoid politically and
generally controversial content in any literature produced for publication by trainees.20
The important points to note here are that powerful forces, some of them governmental,
are being increasingly influential in imposing a utilitarian form on the education, firstly of
certain groups of 16–18-year-olds, but now of widening groups of 14–16-year-olds still
within the period of compulsory education; and that in the case of the Manpower Services
Commission considerable funds are being made available for this purpose over and above
the funds available to the education service generally.
Two more examples of the utilitarian challenge and pressure are worthy of note before
turning to more specific criticism of this particular challenge. The first of these is interesting
because of the characterization of the intellectually educated person that is given, and the
way in which this is opposed to a honorific description of the creative person of action and
decision. The challenge comes from the Royal Society of Arts and is supported by a very
large number of eminent people including, not surprisingly, David Young, chairman of the
MSC. The Society is promoting what it calls Education for Capability by large notices in
the educational press and by granting its recognition, and sometimes small financial grants,
to institutions running courses which it favours. The manifesto of Education for Capability
contains the following:
There is a serious imbalance in Britain today in the full process which is described by
the two words ‘education’ and ‘training’. The idea of the ‘educated person’ is that of a
scholarly individual who has been neither educated nor trained to exercise useful skills;
who is able to understand but not to act….
This imbalance is harmful to individuals, to industry and to society. A well balanced
education should, of course, embrace analysis and the acquisition of knowledge. But it must
also include the exercise of creative skills, the competence to undertake and complete tasks
132â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
and the ability to cope with everyday life; and also doing all these things in cooperation
with others.
There exists in its own right a culture which is concerned with doing, making and
organising and the creative arts. The culture emphasizes the day to day management of
affairs, the formulation and solution of problems and the design, manufacture and marketing
of goods and services.
Educators should spend more time preparing people in this way for a life outside the
education system. The country would benefit significantly in economic terms from what is
here described as Education for Capability.22
Mentioning the RSA promotion here is solely for the purpose of illustrating yet further the
pressures towards instrumentality in education. One must note in passing, however, the
polemical and rhetorical style which takes the place of argument in the above statement.
The idea of an ‘educated person’ given here is surely a caricature; the idea of the creative
mind, firmly located in a liberal education by most of its exponents, is here monopolized
in the service of utility and deprived of the status of an end in its own right; and pointless
functionalism is lauded with no consideration of the ends to which it is to be directed. The
kind of creativity that is here valued is technological and managerial or entrepreneurial,
not the creativity of art, music, literature or drama. Understanding is disassociated from
acting as though these are two different things. All human agents act, for that is what it is
to be an agent; but whether a person acts out of a coherent framework of understanding or
not will be determined by the extent of his or her liberal education, by the extent of what
Richard Peters has called the person’s cognitive perspective. Understanding the practices
of mankind must include, among other things, understanding the necessity and desirability
of appropriate action, whether that appropriateness comes from technical, prudential or
moral considerations. Capability can not be judged humanistically outside a framework
of liberal understanding, save in the perverted sense that Hitler, Stalin and Genghis Khan
were very capable men.
The eminent signatories to the RSA statement include people from industry and
commerce as well as others from the academic world. Industry and commerce have their
own pressure groups, notably the organization known as Understanding British Industry,
sponsored by the CBI, and working actively with teachers and teacher-trainers to propagate
views with which we are now familiar: the desirability and necessity of wealth creation, the
need for pupils not only to understand industry but to be favourably disposed towards it, the
need to accept the inevitability of technological growth and adapt to it, the need to develop
in pupils the attitudes and personality traits that will help the nation in its competitive
economic struggle, and the need to adapt the education system to these ends rather than to
the ends of liberal education which are characterized as narrow, academic, abstract and not
suitable for the majority.
All of this, and much else like it from individual parents and employers that is more
difficult to document but exists powerfully nevertheless, adds up to a pressure upon
educators that is as strong and pervasive as it is unsubtle. I say ‘unsubtle’ partly because the
assertions have become steadily more explicit and overt, and partly to distinguish this kind
of challenge from the more theoretical material of the next chapter. What is going on here
contains an ideology—of that there is no doubt—but it is not a debate about ideologies in
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 133
the sense that the participants recognize it as that. It may be a clash of ideologies of a kind
yet to be discussed; but the assertions are categorically made, and it is worth some attempt
to counter them from the point of view of liberal education in a similarly categorical way,
before entering deeper waters.
If we look at past experience, it seems likely that possibilities of this kind, if they can be
realized profitably with the computer, will be implemented despite any protests by those
concerned.
… To follow such a path of increasing automation usually requires an additional
expenditure on capital equipment. Profitability then depends upon a reduction of employment
for a given output, or at least the substitution of less-skilled, and so cheaper, labour for the
more highly skilled. Both courses reduce the demands which are made on human ability,
and a classical economic argument sees this as the creation of new opportunity. The human
resources set free are available for other needs of society, or to increase the production of
134â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
goods. Moreover, an economic mechanism will automatically ensure that this opportunity
is fully used.
Yet the experience of the last fifty years does little to establish confidence in this self-
regulating mechanism. The demoralising unemployment of the 1930s ended only with
the beginning of the Second World War, and it is not clear that the depression would
have ended without the war. The 1970s, against expectations, saw a renewed increase of
unemployment. During the whole period a large proportion of those employed have done
work below their capability. What is striking is that very great effort is expended upon the
creation of the opportunity which unemployment or underemployment represents, and in
comparison almost none upon using that opportunity.23
Such a lengthy quotation is necessary to show the kind of detailed critical argument about the
benefits or otherwise of technological advance that is completely and naively absent from
the statements of those advocating an economic utility model of education. Unemployment
has, of course, become much worse since this report was written, and political commentators
on unemployment consistently play down the very large technologically structural element
within it, hoping instead for some miraculous upturn in international trade to remedy the
situation.
The idea of the undoubted good of technological advance is not only thus questionable,
it is actively questioned by many people and groups of people in technically advanced
societies. Similar detail can be found in literature from the conservationist and anti-nuclear
groups, represented as cranks in much of the establishment media, but actually producing
complex, sustained and serious argument of a most disturbing kind for those prepared to
read it.
It is no part of my present argument to claim that the views now being referred to are
necessarily correct, though I believe many of them to be so. The argument here is that views
about technological growth are far more controversial than could be inferred from DES
documents, HMI documents and other sources referred to in 9.1. For educators to influence
the minds of pupils in the sole direction of the economic utility model of education, in this
and other respects, would be highly indoctrinatory and therefore inimical to the development
of rational and moral autonomy which is the duty of the liberal educator.
Similarly, the background context of the free competitive market as the determinant of
resource allocation is anything but a consensus view of how society should most desirably
operate. The Green Paper (‘Education in School: A Consultative Document), issued by a
Labour Party Secretary of State, talked of the mixed economy as the normal state which
education must come to terms with, as we might have expected from a government largely
in the hands of the right wing of the Labour Party. Conservative politicians and most
industrialists are, of course, more stridently supportive of a larger, if not total, free market
element, and more directly socialist members of the Labour Party and others too far to the
left to be members of that organization would want to see more, or total, central planning
of the economy. The numbers of people prepared actually to vote for one or other of these
positions when dressed up in various guises in election manifestos varies over time. What
is inescapable, however, is the controversial nature of the issue. Politicians and employers
have every right, in a democracy, to argue their case; but it does not follow from this that
any of them have the right, least of all in a democracy, to impose their particular view
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 135
on the education system. Such a system, in so far as it tries to bring about political and
economic understanding in the minds of the pupils entrusted to it, must treat controversial
matters as controversial matters. The late Lawrence Stenhouse realized this when asked
by the Schools Council to propose strategies for teaching the humanities, but the strategy
his team constructed and tried so hard to introduce into schools is still only rarely seen in
action. The suppression of student opinion in MSC-sponsored courses, already mentioned,
stands directly opposed to the thoughtful strategy of neutrality and impartiality advocated
by Stenhouse and characteristic of all his work.
If consensus does not actually exist in these areas neither does it exist in the matter of
judging the value of activities by their contribution to wealth-creation. What this kind of
emphasis leaves out of account is any consideration of what wealth is to be used for and how
it is to be distributed. Even nineteenth-century utilitarians made happiness and not wealth-
creation the touchstone of value, and were thus concerned about how wealth was used and
distributed, and contemporary political philosophers have consistently related these ideas
to the justice and morality of the ends to which wealth is put and of its distribution.24 None
of these political theorists appears to believe that a society with more wealth-creation is, in
any simple and unqualified way, necessarily better than one with less. It seems particularly
one-sided to judge an educational system, or even particular educational practices, by the
simple criterion of contribution to wealth-creation for two main reasons. Firstly, because
educators must be duty-bound to introduce pupils to controversial matters as controversial
matters, as I have already said in connection with technological growth; and, secondly,
because schools of liberal education must introduce pupils to those activities and practices
which can be considered as worthwhile in themselves and therefore fit to be considered
as ends rather than as means. To take small but illustrative examples of what I mean here:
it would be pointless to judge the value of my listening to music, reading poetry, or even
doing my gardening, by assessing their contribution to wealth-creation when these things
are for me intrinsically valued ends; when they are, in fact, activities on which I use my
wealth rather than means to increase it. It is true that for some people the issue becomes
confused and wealth-creation becomes an end in itself; but that is but one of the peculiar
perversions of modern capitalist society, destructive of justice, morality and a proper
humanity, as Erich Fromm and others have pointed out.25 Education must be concerned
with ends, and to the extent that it is so concerned it is improperly judged on the criterion
of wealth-creation.
The last important controversial area in the economic utility model of education to be
noted here is the emphasis on competition, both individual and national. A full discussion of
the place of competition in education cannot be entered into here, but the point must be made
that the place of competition, in both education and society at large, is controversial. Some
people would favour a much more cooperative society and much more encouragement of
cooperation in schools. Similarly some would favour much more international cooperation
on trade instead of the present automatic assumptions about national competitiveness. Yet
in the model I am criticizing competition is offered as a characteristic of the ‘real’ world,
as though to question competition is like questioning the expansion of metals under heat
or the necessity of moisture for growing plants; whilst cooperation for any other purpose
than to defeat the other team, the other firm or the other country, is corrupting idealism,
out of touch with the ‘real’ world. The assumption is as if Kropotkin had never written, the
136â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
Cooperative Movement had never developed and fraternity had never been a political issue
for which men and women had died on the barricades. Team spirit and loyalty have become
transmogrified, as R.S.Peters puts it, into instruments of destructive competition instead of
universal cooperation among all rational agents.26
In the university training of engineers, the scientific content is again heavily, and
increasingly, stressed. To teach the current technology and procedures of industry is more
difficult and less rewarding because they evolve within industry and change rapidly. Only
someone directly engaged in the activity can teach it, and what is learned will be rapidly
outdated.27
Yet employers still complain that graduates do not understand modern industry, and that
school-leavers do not understand the particular aspects of work they find themselves
in—if they do find themselves in work—as if this was solely the fault of the university
or school. The very users of rapidly changing technologies, even the very makers of
such technologies, show little signs of grasping these particular social implications, and
education policy-makers can naively say that an aim of education should be ‘to help pupils
to acquire knowledge and skills relevant to adult life and employment in a fast changing
world’!28
Because industry has been unable to cope with these problems itself, and because
of the costs of frequently changing training needs, there have been increased demands
for national patterns of training and increased blaming of schools for alleged failures
to develop appropriate skills and attitudes in young school leavers. Exactly what these
appropriate skills and attitudes are does not appear to have been much discussed outside the
literature of the Further Education Curriculum Development Unit, the MSC, and agencies
serving them. Inside that literature, however, one finds a flowering of talk about generic
skills, social skills and life skills which will have a vocational bias and provide vocational
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 137
motivation whilst still being (allegedly) very wide in application. Much of this would not
concern us here were it not for the fact that unemployment has brought many more 16-
and 17-year-olds under the influence of these training philosophies, and because of the
present government’s intention to extend these techniques to the 14-and 15-year-old pupils
in ordinary schools. In the next sub-section I shall look more closely at the characterization
of skills in this literature. Here I am concerned to make the point that the very agencies
who should tackle the problems of industrial training in the context of modern technology
and rapid change, namely the government and industry, have chosen to do so largely by
attacking the general education base and attempting, not to put too fine a point on it, to
take that base over for purely instrumental purposes. This is a grand passing of the buck
and a lamentable shedding of blame and responsibility which has an effect that is doubly
disastrous: it fails to provide adequate industrial training that is directly linked with jobs on
the one hand, and frustrates, confuses and belittles attempts at a genuine liberal education
for all pupils on the other.
Much has been made in some recent discussions on these issues of the need for school-
leavers to be very adaptable in the present-day situation. The need is genuine, but there
are no magic skills for adaptability. The best basis for adaptability is a liberal education
which has encouraged a wide understanding and the development of reason and autonomy,
in the fullest sense of those oft-misused words, without any early prejudging of how this
understanding might later be put to vocational and career use. The very rate of technological
change argues in favour of liberal education for all, and not against it; and only from such
an education can come adaptability, if that is what is necessary, or the critical power to
work for a social control of technology as that increasingly becomes necessary. Liberal
educators should be left to their logically prior task, and only after that should those
properly responsible for industrial training see that it is efficiently undertaken.
The historical evidence is not encouraging. Where it was possible to eliminate skill in the
past, this was generally done. The opportunities which are being offered by the computer
to remove skill from office work, printing, engineering design and other occupations, in
general seem likely to be taken…. It will affect the majority of occupations up to and
within the professional level. There will be a resistance to this development which will be
138â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
strong and tenacious…. If it is unsuccessful, then the great majority of people will for the
first time find themselves united in the misfortune of work which allows them no control
or initiative.29
Of course the report notes that developing technology generates a need for new skills, but
these are for a smaller number of people, usually different people, from those who are
de-skilled.
We seem, then, to have two different accounts. One seems to be saying that education
does not concern itself enough with skills: ‘We believe schools need to make a conscious
effort to ensure that their pupils acquire skills, many of which may prove to have a life-long
value.’30 The other appears to be saying that the trend of technological change is generally
to make increasingly useless the skills that people have acquired.
Part of the confusion here arises from the way in which the word ‘skill’ is used. The
Schools Council gives as examples of skills: initial reading and number skills, the ability
to work alone and the ability to work with others.31 These are among what I have called
the serving competencies because they serve instrumentally the other aims and purposes
within a liberal education. Whether they are appropriately called skills is questionable.
Further skills mentioned by the Schools Council are: a knowledge of political processes,
the ability to interpret scientific data and the ability to make judgments on environmental
matters. What is gained by calling these abilities ‘skills’ is difficult to see. Most writers
agree at a superficial level as to the components of a skill.
A skill is more than knowing, and more than knowing how. It is action too. A skill involves
the application of knowledge to achieve some anticipated outcome. It needs the capacity
and the will to act, as well as knowledge. Skill without knowledge is inconceivable, but
knowledge without skill has a long sad history.32
There are, however, interesting differences of emphasis. If the above quotation stresses the
instrumentality of skills and their connection with action and the will, the following, from
the Council for Science and Society report, emphasizes the knowledgeable control aspect
of skill and marks off two interesting limiting conditions:
The suggested limiting conditions set in this quotation are, it seems to me, sensible ones
which accord with our normal usage of the term ‘skill’. On the one hand it accords with
our intuitive idea that skills are never merely manual and always have a strong cognitive
determination which is sometimes almost entirely determinant, as in the doctor’s skills
of diagnosis which cannot be disassociated from his knowledge and understanding of
anatomy, physiology and pathology, as Ruth Jonathan points out.34 On the other hand the
limiting conditions accord with our unease when morality, personal relationships and even
certain features of communication are characterized as skills. People can, of course, be
skilfully manipulated by others. The point is that this has usually been seen as a perverted
side of human relationships, to be spoken of in derogatory terms, and having nothing to do
with those humanistic aspects of morality, personal and social relations which should be
the concern of liberal educators.
These concerns for life, persons and society are, however, complex and are only to be
understood by the prolonged study of the kind of content discussed in 7.5.1. The advocates
of a skill approach are obviously attracted by a simple view of skills which they then
project into matters too complex to make the appellation appropriate. They seem to want
the advantages of simplicity which lend themselves conveniently to precise statements of
objectives and easily manageable assessment and monitoring:
In specifying the type and level of skill they intend their pupils to acquire teachers come
near to setting themselves precise aims. Schools need to decide and state exactly what
skills they do hope to develop in each of the main areas of experience they are concerned
with. They could use statements of this kind as a basis for self assessment.35
Yet at the same time this simplicity and precision must be injected into complex areas like
‘verbal skills as vehicles for thought, feeling and imagination’36 because the more complex
realms of human action and reflection are clearly the most important and valuable.
Perhaps the fallacy of thinking that these complex areas can be characterized as skills
arises from the fatal slip from the properly adverbial or adjectival to the improper substantive
which is so ready a temptation of language. Because a person can be a thoughtful politician
or an imaginative architect it is tempting to think that there are reifications like ‘thought’ or
‘imagination’ which can be readily identified, isolated and trained for. Similarly, because
it is meaningful to talk of someone being a skilful thinker, or expressing their feelings
skilfully, we are tempted to believe that there is a ‘skill’ to be identified, isolated and
trained for. This reaches its maximum absurdity in notions like ‘life skills’, ‘social skills’
and ‘generic skills’, as if it were meaningful to think of people as skilful at life, in society
or in some universal generic sense. These conceptions are either vacuous or pretentious
names for isolated and relatively trivial abilities that might in some sense be subsumed
under such titles, in the sense that blowing one’s nose efficiently or cutting one’s toenails
adequately are ‘life skills’. Ruth Jonathan puts it very well:
It begins to look as if we have only to dub any desirable capacity or area of experience a
‘skill’ in order to suggest it can be easily identified and acquired. Advocates of the teaching
140â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
of ‘life skills’ or ‘surivival skills’ either have something utterly trivial in mind (like the
ability to change plugs or walk through doorways), or something hopelessly vague (like the
ability to be innovative or to work cooperatively) or are simply proffering glib new labels for
the old educational aims of moral autonomy, rationality and aesthetic discrimination. If we
are serious about the desirability of such goals we must look for advances in epistemology,
psychology and ethical argument and be prepared to apply these insights in education,
rather than following the blind alley of a behaviourist-inspired skill-based approach.37
Other people are wary of the skills approach. Bernard Davies, writing for the National
Youth Bureau, defends what he sees as a ‘social education’ orientation of youth workers
against the pressure to go over to a skill-based approach. He rightly locates social education
in the broad tradition of liberal education:
advocates of social education who wish to resist the drift to social and life skills training
may need to be looking for alliances with all those other educators now trying to defend the
liberal and personalised traditions of education generally.38
He also shares my view, or appears to do so, of the importance of justifying and substantiating
a liberal education philosophy if one is to be in any position to resist the encroachment of
a crude skills approach:
youth workers, teachers and others involved in social education need to regain their nerve—
their conviction that some of the person-centred, critical and creative goals to which they
have been committed are still valid.
… If they cannot re-assert what is distinctive about the theory, philosophy and practice
of their specialist field of work, they cannot hope to resist, still less to influence, the cruder,
often highly mechanistic and behaviourist forms of social and life skills training now being
foisted on so many young people.39
It was noted in the previous sub-section that only one immersed in the practice of a skill,
properly so called, can train another person in that skill. This was the long-standing basis
of apprenticeships and many other less thoroughgoing types of on-the-job training. If we
are speaking of the skills of operating a lathe, a computer, a sailing dinghy or anything
where particular processes and performances are to be explained and demonstrated by one
person to another who then practises the processes under the eye of the expert, then this is
an important part of the paradigm of skills. If it is, however, then even more doubt is cast
on the idea of life skills, social skills, moral skills and the like. Who are those arrogant
enough to claim the necessary expertise to train others in these areas? What qualifications
should they possess and what experience should they have had? What is their ongoing
practice of the expertise which trainees watch and then practise for themselves? What
is the rationale of their explanations? How does it escape the controversy found in these
fields for thousands of years by philosophers and other reflective persons? Perhaps it is
simply ignorance of all these problems, arising from prolonged immersion in action and
the assertion of the will.
I must end this sub-section, and lead into the next, with what after all is the liberal
educator’s main complaint about the emphasis on skills. This is to do with the way in which
The challenge of economic utilityâ•… 141
any emphasis on skills divorces the instruments from their purposes, separates means
from ends. Logically, of course, skills are not separable from purposes and ends. It is the
characterization of particular purposes that helps us to see the use of a particular skill—ball
control in football, say—and there is no performance that is just a skill in any isolated
sense. To make this point, obvious though it may seem to be, is immediately to diminish the
importance of instrumental skills relative to other considerations like being able to choose
our ends in some understanding and informed way; like entering into an understanding of
the values involved in different ends; like considering the morality of certain means rather
than others, even when the ends are determined; and like understanding the varied and
multitudinous practices of humankind which might or might not come to be valued ends
for us. Ruth Jonathan again makes the point crisply when she says that ‘education must
logically equip children to make these choices before it equips them to carry them out.’40
Later in her paper she makes this point more fully:
Formerly, individuals were either educated or trained. As social divisions became slightly
more blurred, the vast mass of young people found themselves at the end of formal schooling
neither educated nor trained. The answer does not lie in replacing education by training for
all, but in acceptance that all young people require a general education which will open to
them as many options of an intellectual, aesthetic and moral kind as they are capable of
entertaining and society is able to support, followed by an appropriate period of generic
training—not in imitative and obsolescent motor skills, but in the appropriate fundamental
principles and general skills of particular technologies, whether industrial, commercial,
scientific or service. The more specific our skills the shorter their useful life.41
With perhaps some room for negotiation as to where the former ends and the latter begins,
few liberal educators would quarrel with that.
9.3 Conclusion
In this chapter I have given a sketch and a criticism of what is perhaps the most overt
and immediately pressing challenge which faces the view of liberal education that I have
outlined in earlier chapters. What I have sketched here is also, of course, an attack on
the education system as it stands in this country today. It is important not to be confused
here, since an attempt to develop a genuine liberal education for all pupils up to at least
the age of sixteen would also be an attack on the system as it exists today. To defend my
view of liberal education against alternative conceptions giving emphasis to training and to
vocational preparation is not to defend the present system. Conversely, arguments pointing
to defects in the present system, in schools as they actually exist today, and they are many,
are not necessarily arguments against the view of liberal education presented here. I happen
to believe that a good deal of what goes on in our schools is liberally educating; but not
enough of it is. There is not enough concern for evidential teaching and teaching for
understanding; there is far too early a narrowing of curriculum spread; there is too much
concern for relating the curriculum to career choice and there is too much emphasis on
competition and not enough on collaboration. An exponent of the economic utility model of
education that I have tried to characterize and criticize would no doubt turn these criticisms
of the status quo on their head, claiming there to be too much concern about understanding
and not enough concern about the ‘realities’ of competition, careers and the creation of
144â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
wealth. Neither of us totally approves of the present system, but we would improve things
in totally opposed ways. The debate is a real one.
At this historical moment (late 1983) there is little doubt that the economic utility
model, supported by the government and the Manpower Services Commission as well as
by powerful agencies of industry and commerce, is winning the power struggle if not the
debate. The reason it is winning is mainly to do with the strength and alignment of political
forces, but a powerful subsidiary factor is the failure of professional educators to first
articulate, and then defend, a coherent view of liberal education.
There are those who would say that what is happening is no more than forces already
and always at work in a capitalist democratic society becoming open about what they are
always trying to do. The liberal education I am advocating would never stand a chance,
these critics would say, because it could not be divorced from the productive and social
relationships obtaining in a capitalist society. These critics raise profound problems about
the relativity of knowledge, and about the relationship between knowledge and ideology,
and to these difficult questions we must now turn.
10
The challenge of relativism, ideology
and the state
10.1 Introduction
In this chapter I shall consider some challenges to my view of liberal education that group
themselves around the idea of the relativity of knowledge and its relationship to political,
social and economic interests. This is to consider arguments at once more complex than,
and different in kind from, those considered in the previous chapter. Those people holding
what I there called the economic utility view of education do not set out to challenge the
taken-for-granted view of knowledge. They hold the same view of knowledge as most other
people but suppose, quite overtly, that some knowledge, especially technological knowledge
characterized in terms of skills, is much more useful than other more abstract knowledge
and understanding, and ought to be the main consideration in schools. The challenge of
those I shall now refer to as ‘relativists’ is more profound in that all knowledge is presented
by them, to a greater or lesser degree, as arbitrary systems of meaning, and opposed to
absolute and objectivist views of knowledge which they suppose to characterize the way
knowledge is presented to and received by pupils in schools. To this extent the challenge
is an epistemological one about the nature of knowledge, and can be met, at least in some
measure, by reminders about how I have characterized knowledge and understanding
earlier in this work. The challenge of the relativists is more complex even than these
epistemological differences and hypothetical characterizations of knowledge, because
grafted onto the relativistic epistemology is a theory, or a body of alternative theories,
seeking to account for the dominance and institutionalization of certain systematizations of
meaning, albeit arbitrary and problematic, by socio-economic or political explanations of
the dominance of social or political groups.
As if this was not already difficult enough there is a third powerful layer of consideration
to weave into the challenge. This is the concept of ideology, with its attendant problems of
whether ideologies are consciously or unconsciously manifested; whether ideologies can
be recognized as such and resisted; and how ideologies arise, are maintained and how they
might be distinguished, if at all, from knowledge.
Within the challenge of relativism we thus have three vast territories of thought
contributing: a specific view of epistemology, though not without variant; a sociology of
knowledge, sometimes offered as neutral analysis, but often with a prescriptive purpose
like the favouring of ‘open’ or ‘integrated’ curricula; and a view of the relationship between
education and ideology. Each of these topics has generated a literature of its own, and this
makes it a daunting task to consider the entire nexus in one chapter. Yet to ignore such a
powerful challenge would leave a very large gap in what is supposed to be a general theory
146â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
of liberal education. A sketch of this challenge, with some suggestions as to how it might be
answered in a way which leaves the general theory intact, must therefore be attempted.
If the sociologist is able to suspend, in his enquiry, the taken for granted moral and intellectual
absolutism of the teacher, who in his everyday situation has no such alternative, then the
phenomena of the classroom and the school can be studied for what they might mean to the
participants; such distinctions, then, as right or wrong, strict or slack, interesting or dull,
which might be used by either teacher or taught, become phenomena to be explained.6
At other times, however, the prescriptive tone appears, as here where Michael Young
is making the point that philosophers of education, like Hirst and White, have tried to
criticize certain curriculum developments like topic-based work and special ‘Newsom’
courses on the grounds that they fail to provide a proper education in terms of the forms
of knowledge:
The problem with this kind of critique is that it appears to be based on an absolutist
conception of a set of distinct forms of knowledge which correspond closely to the
traditional areas of the academic curriculum and thus justify, rather than examine, what are
no more than the socio-historical constructs of a particular time…. The point I wish to make
here is that unless such necessary distinctions or intrinsic logics are treated as problematic,
philosophical criticism cannot examine the assumptions of academic curricula.7
The argument here seems to be that absolutist conceptions of knowledge are to be considered
bad or unhelpful because they do not help us to ‘examine’ the assumptions of the academic
curricula. There is a number of things wrong with this passage, but let us simply note the
prescriptive argument for the moment.
Geoffrey Esland is much more clearly prescriptive. He sets up what he believes to
be the presently dominant characteristics of ‘knowledge’ and then claims that sociology
of knowledge has challenged the epistemological sufficiency of such an account. The
characterization must be given at length because of the many assertions within it. The
quotation gives both the message and the assertive style:
Knowledge is usually considered and referred to as a set of abstract structures with intrinsic
natures—as particular classifications of problems, data and verification procedures
conforming to assumed patterns of coherence. Thus the naming which confirms the
separation between zones of knowledge in a curriculum—called ‘subjects’ or ‘projects’—is
thought to represent certain ontologies, essences of human experience. In other words, it
148â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
is assumed that zones of knowledge are objects which can be considered to have meaning
other than in the minds of the individuals in which they are constituted, irrespective of their
human realization.
This is the objectivist view of knowledge. It is the view represented in the traditional
epistemology and analytic philosophy. It is also how knowledge is conceived in the
reality of everyday experience where the taken for granted nature of the world is rarely
questioned…. Knowledge is thereby detached from the human subjectivity in which it is
constituted, maintained and transformed. Such a view implicitly presents man as a passive
receiver, as a pliable, socialized embodiment of external facticities. He is represented not
as a world-producer, but as world-produced. We have, therefore, a reified philosophy
in which objectivity is autonomized and which does not regard as problematical for the
constituency of the object its constitution in the subjective experience of individuals.8
The particular sociology of knowledge that Esland believes challenges the ‘epistemological
sufficiency’ of this account of knowledge derives in part from Hegel and early Marx
but also from more recent writers like Schutz, Husserl and Schleger in the tradition of
phenomenology, and more recently still from the works of Berger and Luckman,9 C.Wright
Mills10 and Kuhn11. Although there is some feeling of all these writers being treated as
grist to Esland’s particular mill, it is no doubt true that they are all talking about the social
construction of knowledge in one way or another. There are, however, weak and strong
theses about the social construction of knowledge and reality, as I shall try to show later.
Esland characterizes his view like this:
The essential feature of this tradition…is that human sociation is a dialectic phenomenon.
Man externalizes himself through physical and mental activity in the process of
objectivation. The products which he has created then become his subjective world, a
reality which confronts him and is available to the definitions of others. This is subjectively
appropriated, and the objective structures are transformed into subjective consciousness.
The interpretative architecture of the mind is at once an active and a passive agent in the
construction of meaning and significance…. The individual biography is, therefore, both a
subjective and an institutionalized history of the self: the one acts on the other.
Because this view emphasizes man’s active construction of experience, there is a
clear challenge to the static, analytic conception of knowledge…. The focus, therefore,
is now diverted from how man absorbs knowledge so that he can replicate it to how the
individual creatively synthesizes and generates knowledge, and what are its social origins
and consequences.12
the reality which seems self-evident to men remaining within the natural attitude. This
reality is the everyday life world. It is the province of reality in which man continuously
participates in ways which are at once inevitable and patterned…. Only in the world of
everyday life can a common, communicative, surrounding world be constituted. The world
of everyday life is consequently man’s fundamental and paramount reality.20
The reminder that the level at which we share most with our fellows is at the level of
everyday assumptions is an illuminating reminder, especially perhaps for academics of
all persuasions; but the everyday life world is also changed and penetrated by second-
order attempts to characterize and understand it, just as the everyday characterizations of
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 153
personhood have become changed by the oversimplified downward penetration of ideas
from people like, for example, Freud, Sartre and D.H.Lawrence. The problem, as always,
is to determine the bearing of all these kinds of enquiry on the practical and theoretical
questions of what to do and what to believe, whether the questions, as here, are about what
to do and to believe about education, or about one’s own personal and social life.
Today it is the commonsense conceptions of ‘the scientific’ and ‘the rational’, together
with the various social, political and educational beliefs that are assumed to follow from
them, that represent the dominant legitimizing categories. It therefore becomes the task of
sociological enquiry to treat these categories not as absolutes but as constructed realities
realized in particular institutional contexts.21
In case we might misunderstand what Young means here by ‘the rational’, he cites C.Wright
Mills with approval later on and makes the point clear;
Mills (1939) makes the significant point that what we call ‘reasoning’, ‘being logical’, or
validating the truth of an assertion, all involve a self-reflection or criticism of one’s own
thoughts in terms of various standardized models. These models will necessarily be sets of
shared meanings of ‘what good argument is, what is logical, valid etc….’ …like all shared
meanings they can be treated as problematic and become the objects of enquiry….the rules
154â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
of logic, whether practical or academic, are conventional, and will be shaped and selected
in accordance with the purpose of the discourse or the intentions of the enquiry.22
Young then goes on to note that if logic, good reasoning and justification are all to be treated
as problematic then shortcomings on the part of a pupil need no longer be considered as
‘wrong’, or ‘poorly argued’, but simply as deviance. In one sense there is no problem here
if all that is being said is that it might be more useful and revealing to an educator to look
at the causes of a pupil’s ‘deviance’ rather than to harp on the pupil’s wrongness or lack
of logic. But one cannot resist the feeling that much more than this is being said. Reason
and logic are being offered as part of the legitimating apparatus of the ruling power of
the dominant economic system, presumably monopoly capitalism. Similar arguments can
be found in Marcuse where ‘reason’ seems to be limited to an instrumental, means-end,
interpretation.23 It is this conception of the problematic nature of reason and rationality
and their associated cluster of concepts, principles and techniques that the theory of liberal
education rejects.
Of course logic and reason are conventions; of course they constitute shared systems
of meanings; of course they involve standardized models and of course they would not
exist without minds. Systems of logic are not immutable: Aristotle did not work out all the
possibilities of the propositional calculus; he did not envisage the complexities of symbolic
logic; nor did he see the controversies within modal logic that modern logicians concern
themselves with. Of course systems of logic, to some extent, can be shaped and selected
to suit different discourses and purposes. Having said all this, however, the status of logic
and reason as necessarily presupposed in serious discourse and serious enquiry remains.
Human beings do not have to engage in serious discourse or enquiry in any absolute sense,
whatever that might mean; though human life would be very different and the species
potential would be much more circumscribed if they did not. But if they do then reason and
logic are necessitated since without them it would be meaningless to talk about believing
or doing one thing being any better than believing or doing another. Writing books like
‘Knowledge and Control’ which seek to assert bodies of propositions as preferable to
other propositions that could be considered, would be quite pointless enterprises, as would
any kind of argument or discussion. When people claim this kind of necessity they are
not claiming reason and logic as objective physical presences which cannot be avoided,
but they are claiming the necessity of presupposing certain things (concepts, principles
or techniques) if we want to engage in certain other things (argument, discussion, proof,
justification). To say that you only need to subscribe to certain conventions, say passing
the after-dinner port and madeira in a certain direction, if you want to value certain high-
table society is true if trivial. To say that you only need to attend to reason and logic if you
want to have meaningful discourse and to engage seriously in justificatory questioning,
is not so clear since nobody could utter or entertain such a proposition unless they were
already committed to such discourse and such enquiry. That is to say: they could not utter
or entertain such a proposition meaningfully, or with any point, unless so committed; nor
could they have any way of indicating the truth of such an assertion without commitment
to accepted procedures of justification connected with reason and logic. The tu quoque
argument, in short, can always be turned upon anybody who tries to demonstrate or argue
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 155
the dispensability of reason: in order to make the case such a proponent must necessarily
presuppose not only the use of reason but its value.
The theory of liberal education rejects this extension of relativism to rationality itself.
Indeed, the arguments of the theory have all been in the other direction: that is to say, they
have started with the necessary presupposition of reason in asking justificatory questions
about education and have tried to work out the extensive implications of such necessary
presuppositions. If our most fundamental justificatory principles are not to be rooted in
the very necessities of justificatory enquiry it is difficult to see where else they might be
located. The point at issue here is an extremely important educational and political one. To
suppose, for example, that working-class youngsters need not engage too seriously in reason
and logic because these are merely the instruments and legitimations of those who exploit
them, would be seriously to betray working-class youngsters. If this became a seriously
prevalent view, instead of merely an academic one, then working-class youngsters could, as
it were, be betrayed from two sides: one side saying that a liberal education is not necessary
because it has no economic utility, and the other side saying that a liberal education is not
necessary because it is merely a body of capitalist legitimations. My argument is that liberal
education, properly understood, liberates precisely because of its dependence, in content
and method, on the only resource we have for arbitration between conflicting calls to belief
and action, namely our reason. Sociological accounts of the kind I have so far mentioned
go a long way in describing forces acting against the use and development of reason, just as
Freudian accounts attempt to explain different kinds of distortions and aberrations of such
development; but both go too far if they claim that there is nothing but an arbitrary area of
conflict in which all we can do is make blind and meaningless commitments.
In these two sections I have tried to deal with the challenge of what I have called
epistemological relativism on a front admittedly limited by my present purposes, and taking
the work of Esland and Young in ‘Knowledge and Control’ as reasonably clear exemplars
of such a challenge. Since the publication of ‘Knowledge and Control’ the challenge of
relativism has widened and much more has been written about the way in which social
forces affect the content and methodology of education. Much of this work has clustered
around the idea of ideology, and to this I must now turn in rather more detail.
10.4 Ideology
A great deal of sociological writing on education at the turn of the decade and into the
1980s is centred around the concept of ideology, and the discussion here is at once complex,
interesting and challenging to the ideas of liberal education I have outlined. The discussion
is complex for a number of reasons. There is, to start with, no immediate and authoritative
defmition of ‘ideology’ that can be given, part of the debate always being to do with what
ideology is and whether or not its illocutionary force is to be taken as pejorative or not.
A further complexity is that discussions of ideology are inevitably political, not least
because the concept is a key one for theorists in the Marxist tradition of political and
cultural analysis. It is therefore difficult to avoid being caught up in the many debates
within Marxism itself between humanistic, classical and neo-Marxists as to the nature of
ideology, its relation to the state, the ruling class and the working class, and the possibility
or impossibility of transcending the influence of dominant ideologies.
156â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
The discussion is interesting because, in my view, considerable light is thrown on
human belief and understanding, and educational attempts to facilitate the development
of these characteristics, by considering them in the context of ideology. Notions that have
concerned philosophers of education, like ‘indoctrination’, ‘justifiable beliefs’, ‘living
truths and dead dogmas’, ‘knowledge’ and ‘understanding’, which have already figured in
my account, have obvious connections with concepts like ideology and can only gain in
sharpness of characterization by being considered together with that concept.
For some writers education in a capitalist society is nothing more than the socialization
of pupils into the particular ideology of such a society. If this is an accurate description
of education in a capitalist society, then claims that liberal education was going on would
be mere pretensions; and claims that liberal education as I have characterized it could go
on would be countered by a demonstration of the dependence of prevailing ideologies on
the existing capitalist mode of production and the social relations necessarily entailed by
such a mode of production. On such a view a genuinely liberating education could only
follow the liberation from domination and oppression consequent upon the destruction
of the capitalist mode of production and its attendant social relations. In this way, certain
analyses of education in capitalist societies, involving the notion of ideology, constitute a
serious threat and challenge to ideas of the desirability and possibility of liberal education
spelled out earlier in this work, in that so far they seem to have ignored the forces of
ideology with which they have to contend.
It will be helpful, I think, to state my thesis on this before 1 go on to attempt its
demonstration and justification. This will at least help readers to see where I am heading
for through some admittedly confusing territory. I shall argue that ideology is a meaningful
and useful concept, and that the term does name a force acting in culture generally and in
education particularly. Further, I shall argue that it is also meaningful to talk of dominant
ideologies that are related to political and economic structures, as picked out in certain uses
of the concept of hegemony. On the other hand I shall claim that the distinction sometimes
drawn between science and ideology is confusing and leaves an epistemological gap to
do with the justification of other human practices than science. Finally, I shall claim that
ideologies, in so far as they are basically of limited rationality to those living them, can be
transcended by the necessity of seeking consistency, coherence and justification in one’s
life, and a liberal education, properly conceived, is the facilitator of this transcendence.
Liberation from the tyranny of the present and the particular is, in part, liberation from
ideology.
‘Ideology’ was originally a word connected with the study of ideas, and it retains that
connotation to some extent still. Most writers using the term today, however, use it to
name a framework not just of ideas but of actual practices, institutions, engagements and
interactions that embody ideas in some way. This wider connotation is important to keep in
mind, since it helps to establish the notion that ideologies are not just theoretical structures
or propositional frameworks but lived experiences in which the ‘bearers’ of the ideologies,
those living them, have no conscious awareness of bearing or living an ideology. A
sophistication of the idea of ideology is that an individuals own perception of self is created
within and by the ideology within which he lives, and that this is not entirely at the level of
reason, cognition and consistent awareness. Indeed, among some Marxists there has been a
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 157
revival of interest in Freudian ideas of the unconscious which attempt further explanation
of the penetration of ideologies below the level of conscious awareness.24
As characterized so far, of course, there could be any number of ideologies within which
different people live. Most of the views I wish to consider, however relate the idea of
ideology to political and economic structures. The idea here is that people live within a
dominant ideology generated by the relations of production in a mainly capitalist market
economy. It is not that such an ideology (incorporating ideas of ownership, management
and labour, the profit motive and rationale, the separation of public, private and political,
and so on) is conceived theoretically and accepted as dominant. It is rather that it becomes
dominant by being lived in as natural and inevitable, a characteristic as it were of human
nature. It is not that the features of such an ideology are not allowed by anyone to be
questioned, it is simply that for most people they are not even conceived of as questionable.
Yet, of course, the claim of Marxists and others is that such an ideology serves the interests
of those members of a capitalist society who rule that society by owning and controlling
the means of production, and therefore helps to perpetuate conditions of oppression and
exploitation of which the victims, in any full sense, are unaware. It is a further part of
this characterization that education constitutes one of the major (for some the major)
institutional apparatuses for involving each rising generation into the dominant ideology.
As Althusser puts it:
I believe I have good reasons for thinking that behind the scenes of its political Ideological
State Apparatus, which occupies the front of the stage, what the bourgeoisie has installed
as its number one, i.e. as its dominant ideological State apparatus, is the educational
apparatus, which has in fact replaced in its functions the previously dominant ideological
State apparatus, the Church.25
Many Marxists would want to say that this last quotation makes the matter sound too
deliberate and conspiratorial. What the idea of ideology picks out is something far more
complex than mere propaganda. It is not the manipulation of ignorant pupils by skilled
servants of the ruling class, all knowing what they are about. It is rather that all are caught
up in the ideological framework: pupils, parents, teachers and even individual managers,
employers and members of the ruling classes themselves. The capitalist mode of production
itself, and the social relations it produces, necessitates a framework of thought and practice,
of assumptions and institutions that, whilst taken for granted, make the whole set-up
coherent and matter of fact. Althusser even describes how he believes the education system
provides adaptive perspectives of the ideology to fit subsequent roles in the capitalist mode
of production: some pupils being ‘ejected’ at about 16 years of age into ‘production’ as
workers, whilst others go on gaining different aspirations and attitudes and become:
158â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
small and middle technicians, white collar workers, small and middle executives, petty
bourgeois of all kinds. A last portion reaches the summit, either to fall into intellectual semi-
employment or to provide…the agents of exploitation (capitalists, managers), the agents
of repression (soldiers, policemen, politicians, administrators, etc.) and the professional
ideologists (priests of all sorts…),27
the point here being that all, not just the workers, are directed and role-determined in an
appropriate way by the ideology carried by the education system.
I am still at the stage of briefly characterizing the concept of ideology as it appears
in the literature, and anxious to convey the pervasiveness, the taken-for-grantedness, the
all-incorporating idea that the more sensitive Marxist writers have in mind, as well as the
dependence of the notion on the actually existing mode of production and its necessary
social relations. Of course we can still imagine a believer in the virtue of a free market
economy actually and overtly trying to match education to his ideas, as perhaps some of
the advocates of skill-based vocational training are doing, but this would not in itself be an
example of ideology at work. More controversially we may imagine a person coming to
understand the forces of ideology and resisting them. The extent to which this is possible,
or whether it would be just one ideology combating another, we have yet to consider. It
is the vast area of taken-for-granted, everyday lived experience—unquestioned, relatively
unexamined, yet relatively coherent and sense-making, not a mere illusion or fantasy, yet
not the truth or the whole truth—that is the domain of ideology; and school, it is claimed,
is the purveyor and reinforcer of it.
Now there seems little doubt to me that this idea, in its more carefully expressed
forms at least, conveys a good deal of truth. Schools as they actually exist in democratic
capitalist societies do convey, in a taken-for-granted way, much of the value-attitude-
thought structure that is conducive to the maintenance of such a society. They tend to
favour and institutionalize competition; they favour individual acquisition against other
individuals; they encourage conformity, often blind conformity, to authority; they relate
knowledge status to occupational hierarchy status; they screen in relation to a required
occupational hierarchy in a way not unlike that claimed by Althusser; and in spite of much
lip-service to the contrary their practices do not always appear to place much emphasis on
critical thought, either in teaching methods or in assessment. This is not an inclusive nor an
exhaustive list of what schools do, but I believe they do all these things. In so far as they do,
then the picture of schools as ideological apparatuses is not too difficult to draw.
Whether this, even if true, is to be seen as bad, is a further question. Marxist writers
vary; some, like Kevin Harris, manage to convey, if not actually to state, a picture of
undiluted capitalist wickedness!28 Others, perhaps Marx himself, and certainly Antonio
Gramsci, much more convey the idea of the necessities of certain stages of historical
development. On this view no wickedness is entailed whatsoever: it is simply the case
that certain modes of production will evolve certain sense-making ideologies and the
institutional apparatuses to further them. Interestingly, though, and strangely neglected in
some contemporary Marxist writing, it is also the case within classical Marxist theory, that
historial stages contain within themselves the very contradictions that will bring about their
transformation, and these contradictions can exist not only in the material productive base,
but in all that is superstructurally co-existent with that base—in other words within the
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 159
ideology itself. I shall explore the dialectic fruitfulness of that idea later. For the moment
there are two ways in which we could say that if schools are purveyors of ideology in the
way described then it is bad and they should not be. The first is political, and some Marxists
would agree with it. The second is educational and most Marxists, though perhaps not
Gramsci, would shudder at the separation!
The first argument, then, would say that the prevailing ideology is bad because it tends to
support the exploitation and oppression of the working class. I would make two comments
on this. The argument only works if you do believe the democratic capitalist society to be
exploitative and oppressive. For believers of this claim, and the Marxist theories of value
that underlie it, then ideology provides a ready answer for why most people fail to see that
they are exploited. If you do not accept the charge of exploitation, then what is being called
‘ideology’ could be seen as simply an appropriate inculcation of the young into the values,
attitudes and knowledge appropriate to their citizenship in a liberal democratic state—
which is exactly how some teachers do put it. My other comment is that if ideology is only
wrong because it facilitates the exploitation and oppression of the working class, it seems
to follow that an ideology that did not do that would be all right. Indeed, some writers have
seemed to indicate that teachers should encourage the ideology or culture of the working
class as a kind of counter-culture or counter-ideology. School then would be seen as a site
for conflicting ideologies to, as it were, battle it out for supremacy.29
The second argument for considering that ideology is bad is a different one and more
closely related to my conception of a liberal education. This argument would be that any
inculcation of values and beliefs which was not on a basis of reason and evidence, not
concerned with issues of justification, would be bad because it fails to respect the pupil as
an actual or potential rational agent. This argument, of course, supposes there to be beliefs
that are more justifiable than others, more objective than others, and that access to such
objective knowledge is possible even in the face of ideological pressure and mystification.
I must return to a discussion of this important possibility, but at the moment I am concerned
to maintain the meaningfulness of talking about ideology as mediated and reinforced by
schools, and the justification for assuming such mediation to be bad.
A further conceptual tool for discussing these notions is to be found in the idea of
hegemony. The notion of hegemony, as used in Marxist analysis, combines the idea of a
strong and pervasive ideology with that of class dominance. For Raymond Williams, for
example, hegemony is:
the central, effective and dominant system of meanings and values, which are not merely
abstract but which are organized and lived. That is why hegemony is not to be understood
at the level of mere opinion or mere manipulation. It is a whole body of practices and
expectations; our assignments of energy, our ordinary understandings of the nature of man
and of his world.30
and he is clear that: ‘The educational institutions are usually the main agencies of the
transmission of an effective dominant culture.’31 Williams is also concerned, however, to
emphasize the complexity, the pervasiveness, and what he calls the ‘selective tradition’, in
the operation of hegemony:
160â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
the way in which from a whole possible area of past and present certain meanings and
practices are chosen for emphasis, certain other meanings and practices are neglected and
excluded. Even more crucially, some of these meanings and practices are reinterpreted,
diluted, or even put into forms which support or at least do not contradict other elements
within the effective dominant culture.32
Like other writers Williams emphasizes the enormous penetrative power of hegemonic
ideology so conceived:
If what we learn…were merely an imposed ideology, or if it were only the isolable meanings
and practices of the ruling classes, or of a section of the ruling class, which gets imposed
on others, occupying only the tops of our minds, it would be—and one would be glad—a
very much easier thing to overthrow.33
Now such a force as is picked out in the notion of a hegemonic ideology, or what Williams
calls an effective dominant culture, certainly constitutes a challenge to liberal education as
a feasible possibility. Some Marxist writers appear to reject the liberal education possibility
out of hand—Kevin Harris, for example:
On the one hand there are fine ideals continually expressed by people who would sincerely
and seriously wish to see those ideals manifested in schools and other institutions. On
the other hand, there is the capitalist society which requires vast numbers of people to
undertake menial instrumental tasks (and to remain unaware of, and powerless to criticize,
their real relations in and to the world). Education, as an instrument of society, is thus
powerless to practise what it preaches, for it is characterized by the contradiction that it
cannot produce the products it theoretically desires and ostensibly strives for within the
society that it is charged with reproducing.34
Althusser even ‘asks the pardon’ of those teachers who he believes try to work against the
prevailing ideology:
They are a kind of hero. But they are rare and how many (the majority) do not even begin
to suspect the ‘work’ the system (which is bigger than they are and crushes them) forces
them to do, or worse, put all their heart and ingenuity in performing it with the most
advanced awareness (the famous new methods!). So little do they suspect it that their own
devotion contributes to the maintenance and nourishment of this ideological representation
of the School, which makes the School today as ‘natural’, indispensable—useful and even
beneficial for our contemporaries as the Church was ‘natural’, indispensable and generous
for our ancestors a few centuries ago.35
The challenge is thus clear. Since ideology operates below the level of any awareness that it
is an ideology, and because it is determined by the necessities of the mode of production in
a capitalist society, no education in such a society is likely to be liberal in the sense I have
been trying to describe and to justify, or so it would seem to follow.
There is another consideration to add to the power of a dominant ideology which has a
particularly topical force, and this has to do with the relationship between education and
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 161
the state. If state power is seen as basically an instrument of the ruling economic class,
as Marxists see it, then the rise of state education systems in the late nineteenth century
in liberal democratic capitalist states raises interesting explanatory problems. On the one
hand extensive, even universal and compulsory, education seemed to turn the coercive
power of the state against those who would exploit children by employing them for long
hours in factories, farms or mines. On the other hand, however, state provision of education
made it more possible for schooling to be part of the dominant ideology in two ways.
Firstly, by making ostensibly less necessary, and in some cases impossible, the distinctively
working-class provision of education in institutions like the socialist Sunday schools—the
providers of an alternative vision.36 In other words the occasion for a class-based working-
class education diminished as state-provided education increased. Secondly, of course,
the provision of state education made more possible the direct state influence on the
type of provision and on curriculum content. It thus becomes possible to argue as Rachel
Sharp does:
Although running the risk of overgeneralization the thesis seems plausible that in the course
of the nineteenth century the ruling class gained effective control over a crucial instrument
for establishing its dominance: the form and content of schooling. This process facilitated
therefore, the increasing management of knowledge in the service of the technical problems
generated by the accumulation process and the requirements of maintaining hegemony….
Education for most no longer involves the transfer of sweetness and light, the initiation of
the young into a broad and general humanistic curriculum….the emphasis is on training
pupils in those specific instrumental skills required by a differentiated workforce through
a range of practical ideologies which serve to reinforce and legitimize the social relations
of production.37
Similarly, but more generally, Nicos Poulantzas refers to ‘the capitalist state’s take-over
of education and its regimentation of the culture domain in general’.38 There appears to
be some confusion here between what a particular government might advocate and seek
to advance as a matter of overt policy—the kind of thing we considered in the previous
chapter—and the generally prevailing ethos in which what the state does seems to be in the
service of a generally accepted consensus about how things should be. The power of the
state is great in either case; but it is more insidious, and more truly ideological, in the latter.
Whether state power can be used to advance a truly liberal education system, even in a
society still correctly described as capitalist, most Marxists would seem to seriously doubt.
Not all of them, though, and I shall return to this debate in my critical section.
Marxist writers, in their complex but illuminating analysis, make use of another notion
which we must consider at least briefly before turning to a criticism of their case and
a defence of the liberal education ideal against it; this is the notion of incorporation.
The idea of incorporation picks out the characteristic of a hegemonic ideology to absorb
into itself ideas which initially seem to be threats or challenges to it. For example, ideas
constituent of liberal democracy, like individual freedom, equality, universal suffrage,
freely elected legislatures and responsible cabinet government are, it is alleged, absorbed
and metamorphosed into the dominant ideology without altering the basic social relations
attendant upon capitalist modes of production. Freedom comes to refer to certain
162â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
freedoms necessary for capitalist production and the operation of the market; equality
comes to refer to equality ‘before the law’ but not to actual equality in terms of wealth,
or it becomes changed into equality of opportunity rather than actual equality; and the
conditions of elections require political parties to constrain their programme proposals
within the dominant ideology because of the necessity to win votes. The actual ability
of liberal democracy to effect change, therefore, is limited to the change that is possible
within the parameters established by the capitalist mode of production, change beyond
these parameters being seen as ‘revolutionary’ and destructive of ‘society itself’. To the
extent that incorporative strategies successfully enable the hegemonic ideology to embrace
change whilst still leaving economically determined social relations relatively untouched,
to that extent there is little need for the full coercive power of the state to be used. As in
so many other aspects of ideology an important agency of incorporation is held to be the
school, not only in the reinforcement given to the assumptions of liberal democracy, but
also the instrumental assumptions built into curricular structure and practice:
ways in which the curriculum field supports the widespread interests in technical control
of human activity, in rationalizing, manipulating, ‘incorporating’, and bureaucratizing
individual and collective action, and in eliminating personal style and political diversity.39
Marx himself clearly believed that intellectuals such as himself could transcend the
relativism that results from class position and generate accurate accounts of the social
world and its nature. Marxist theoretical formulations were therefore presented in testable
form together with the evidence that generated them,41
and they assume, as I have done, that if Marx can do it so can at least some others; and they
argue, like Gramsci, for the possibility of doing this even on the basis of the curriculum
164â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
as it exists in capitalist social formations—but that is to run ahead. Reynolds and Sullivan
appear to reserve the capacity to transcend ideology for intellectuals, but, as Gramsci
reminds us:
homo faber cannot be separated from homo sapiens. Each man, finally, outside his
professional activity, carries on some form of intellectual activity, that is, he is a
‘philosopher’, an artist, a man of taste, he participates in a particular conception of the
world, has a conscious line of moral conduct, and therefore contributes to sustain a
conception of the world or to modify it, that is, to bring into being new modes of thought….
All men are intellectuals, one would therefore say: but not all men have in society the
function of intellectuals.42
A common distinction made in Marxist terminology is that between science on the one hand
and ideology on the other. ‘Science’ here, of course, does not refer to the physical sciences
alone but also, and indeed particularly, to the possibility of social, political and economic
science: systematic, evidential and logical enquiries of which Marxism would, presumably,
constitute a paradigm. Science, on this account, reveals inherent contradictions leading to
constant reappraisals, where-as ideology presses constantly towards coherence, cohesion
and consensus:
As opposed to science ideology has the precise function of hiding the real contradictions
and of reconstituting on an imaginary level a relatively coherent discourse which serves
as the horizon of agents’ experience;…its social function is not to give agents a true
knowledge of the social structure but simply to insert them as it were into their practical
activities supporting this structure.43
It follows logically from a Marxist theory of language and of ideology that it is both
possible and politically necessary to make judgments about the adequacy of one’s thought,
otherwise the grounds for Marxism itself and its epistemological validity disappear.44
Sharp shows the same concern for rational justification when she argues that a rational
debate does not involve the withholding of one’s own substantive point of view:
What it does entail is that the stance adopted is itself open to rational scrutiny, the basic
assumptions exposed for critical appraisal and the sequences in the discourse examined for
their logical consistency.45
Though perhaps it is more akin to faith than the rational temper when she so firmly
claims:
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 165
Historical materialism has little to fear in this respect. Precisely because it is a superior
mode of analysis, it can withstand rational appraisal and be confident when juxtaposed
with other systems of thought.46
Rational humanism reasserts itself, and liberal educators might prick up their ears, when
she says:
even within capitalist societies themselves there are moments of transcendence which,
whilst often reflecting capitalist societies’ contradictions, point to the possibility of moving
beyond them, in literature, art and music, in love and friendship and in the spontaneity, free
from ideology, of very young children.47
One might add: and in science, in mathematics and logic, or in biology and geography—but
this is to run ahead again. The point at the moment is to show that not only do Marxists as
a matter of fact go beyond ideology, but that the very integrity and justification of Marxism
rests on the presupposition of a framework of reason, logic and empirical testing that must
be assumed to be relatively free of ideology. Knowledge, or science in its broad sense,
rests upon the idea of justiflable belief, where ‘justifiable’ has a much stronger sense than
‘legitimated’. A liberal education, in my conception of it, would be essentially concerned
with justifiable beliefs, and therefore essentially concerned with diminishing the influence
of ideologies, as of other supersititions and mystifications. I have tried to show, so far, that
this is at the least a logical possibility. The hard challenge, therefore, is not a threat to my
conception of a liberal education.
The softer challenge is of a different kind and accords more with what most Marxist
writers are actually saying. This challenge, called softer here because it is not a matter of
logical necessity, addresses itself to the empirical possibility of practising a liberal education
and achieving the kind of liberation from ideology that I have said to be logically possible.
Here it is as if a Marxist critic were to say, ‘All right, I am not claiming that the liberal
education you describe, or the liberation to be achieved by it, is impossible to achieve in a
capitalist society, but I am saying that success is highly unlikely and that the great majority
of people will remain trapped in ideology.’ One point that must be made immediately is
that ahhough this challenge is addressed to empirical possibility it is not suggested that the
issue can be settled empirically. What is going on here is still a matter of judgment as to the
forces with which a liberal educator must contend and the possibility of overcoming them
to some degree. Neither challenger nor defender can actually set up empirical tests here
since the arena for such testing must eventually be history. Nevertheless the judgments we
make are important, since they affect our striving to influence history in one way rather
than in another. They are particularly important judgments for teachers to make. What
could be more demoralizing for a teacher than to come to understand ideology and believe
him or herself powerless against it?
I have already cited both a French Marxist, Althusser, and an Australian Marxist, Kevin
Harris, as claiming that teachers try to be liberal educators but without much chance of
success because of the system and the ideology within which they operate; and the first
step in a critical response to this challenge must be to admit the strength of the force acting
against the chances of successfully implementing a liberal education policy. As detailed in
166â•… Beyond the Present and the Particular: A Theory of Liberal Education
the previous section ideological forces are both strong and pervasive, they tend increasingly
to be supported, sometimes overtly, by agencies of the state, and subtleties of incorporation
go massively unnoticed. Instrumental and increasingly technical approaches to educational
aims and curriculum content, as well as to teaching techniques and assessment procedures,
undoubtedly all act against the ideas I would wish to see practised. All this I do not deny.
Agreeing that this is the case, however, and that it is a situaion to be deplored, the
next step is to seek the most justifiable countervailing strategy. I say the most justifiable
strategy, rather than simply the one most likely to succeed, because it is no good freeing
people from an ideology, even partly, if what replaces that ideology is as bad or worse.
Let me consider briefly two possible countervailing strategies that are not, in my view,
justiflable. The first is the naive view, which Murdock and others appeared to hanker after
in the early 1970s, that all might be improved if schools recognized a working-class culture
as well as a middle-class culture and adapted the curriculum to it, or at least broadened
the cultural possibilities of the curriculum. The trouble with this argument is that it is very
difficult to point to features of working-class culture, in any distinctive sense, that are
not either trivially irrelevant (darts, football, brass-bands, pigeon-fancying), or themselves
features of cultural entrapment and ideological exposure (restricted language codes, over
use of television, work and neighbourhood-based social relations). It is easy enough to
give base and superstructure or other sociological explanations of why working-class
cultures are as they are, and why middle-class cultures have distinguishing features. It
is also possible to show why the embourgeoisement of the working classes, which some
predicted would accompany a rise in working-class living standards, has not taken place.
The more interesting point for our present purpose, is that middle-class, and to some extent
petit-bourgeois, culture, for whatever cause, appears to have more genuinely liberating
(ideology-transcending) possibilities in it than does working-class culture; and this
possibly explains why we find so many middle-class Marxists trying to tell workers how
exploited they are, from Marx and Lenin onwards to more recent products of the lycée, the
gymnasium and the grammar school and the university! What would have to be shown on
the ‘more working-class culture’ argument, is that such a culture contained more liberating
or ideology transcending elements within it. I simply do not believe this to be the case.
For reasons that are not too difficult to spell out, mainly concerned with privileged access
to knowledge and understanding that is more universal and humanistic, the opportunities
for liberation among the middle classes are greater than among the working classes, and
this has been recognized in campaigns for more equal access to liberal and universalistic
education. In one sense it is, of course, misguided to claim that middle-class culture is better
than working-class culture—it is simply that the former has more access to a liberating
universal culture. There appears to be some evidence that mainstream Marxists in England
recognize this, as Entwistle reports:
English Marxist educationists, for example, have put their energies into a campaign for
structural reform of the system along comprehensive lines and have not dismissed the
traditional curriculum as bourgeois and irrelevant to working class children…except for the
new radical Left (and some conservative educationists, e.g. G.H.Bantock in Britain) there
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 167
has historically been no insistence from Marxists upon replacing the traditional subject
curriculum with one focused upon ‘working-class culture’, whatever that might be.48
Another variant of the argument, which avoids the concept of working-class culture, is to
emphasize the alleged problematic nature of knowledge and the consequent equal validity of
pupils’ own commonsense knowledge with what Nell Keddie calls ‘classroom knowledge’.
Keddie’s paper49 is essentially a study of the link between teachers’ categorization of
pupils and the rigid conceptions of knowledge and ability held by teachers; but implicit
in her arguments is the assumption of the equal validity of alternative perceptions, beliefs
and classifications of knowledge, and this in turn reflects the general phenomenological
position of the ‘new sociology of education’ of the mid-1970s. Reynolds and Sullivan,
claiming to speak as traditional Marxists, strongly contest this view, which appears to
ignore the problem of ideology altogether:
Intellectuals have a role for Marxists in pointing out that many individuals’ common sense
understandings or constructions of reality are invalid, erroneous beliefs that are especially
damaging if they prevent people from seeing, through false consciousness, the nature and
causes of the social reality around them. The primacy and importance given to actors’
explanations within the new sociology of education is, then, a thoroughly unsocialist
method of analysis.50
Not only do Reynolds and Sullivan, as classical Marxists, appear to be valuing certain
elements of a normal capitalist education system because it can produce intellectuals
capable of transcending ideology, but because of its possibilities for working-class children
in linking them with historically evolved, universalistic, and liberating humanistic cultures.
In this they call in both Gramsci and Lenin as allies:
By this he (Gramsci) seemed to have at least two things in mind. First, that the schooling
of children should not be vocational in the sense of providing technical or professional
training…thus the school should be disinterested as to the future occupational destiny of
the child. But, second, the humanistic culture of the school should enshrine the traditional
academic values of objectivity, pluralism…, rationality—the disinterested pursuit of
knowledge.56
To the extent that the state fails to provide this kind of education, or actively promotes
some other kind—say, vocational training or political indoctrination—to that extent its
rights in the matter are abrogated, its justification for commanding obedience collapsed.
It might be argued, as against the view just outlined, that provided a government is
properly elected its powers cannot be limited in the way described, and that it could claim
a right to control or to de-control education in any way that the electorate did not object to
by turning the government out of office. This may have force in constitutional law, but little
in logic or morality. The force of a majority mandate has been much exaggerated in modern
conceptions of democracy, and can lead to considerable tyranny, as Hayek has pointed
out.57 It is much more reasonable to suppose that a government elected to office within
democratic forms is bound to uphold the presuppositions of those forms, namely, certain
assumptions about the autonomy of individuals, reason, freedom of inquiry and debate,
and the proper adherence to argument rather than to force. These presuppositions are more
important than the temporary will of the majority, since they underpin—give coherence
to—any particular representative arrangements; and they should therefore provide
the limits necessary to prevent a tyranny of the majority. To put this another way: both
democracy and liberal education presuppose the same respect for persons and for reason.
It would therefore be inconsistent and incoherent for a democratically elected government
to impose a form and content of education which was not based on the development of
rational autonomy in some full and plain sense. For any particular democratic government
to recognize an obligation to provide and defend liberal education, therefore, does not rest
upon any majority mandate, but rather upon the much more profound and fundamental
roots of the political forms of which it is but a temporary part.
On this argument the executive state might allow other agencies to run schools if they
too were run on genuinely liberal education lines, and this necessarily would require
inspection and the satisfying of certain standards of content and methodology. Whether
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the stateâ•… 173
the state justifiably allowed such private and independent ventures in education, even if
genuinely liberal, would depend upon other aspects of government policy concerning
economic and social equality; but this raises issues beyond my present intentions. What
would not be justifiable, on my account, would be to allow the provision of schools of
a religious denominational kind where the pupils were to be educated and trained into
a predetermined set of beliefs and attitudes, simply because these were the beliefs and
attitudes of their parents. The right to provide such schools, or even to have them provided,
is sometimes claimed on the basis of tolerance and pluralism; but this again is a confused
point of view since the toleration appealed to is to be extended to the parents who then
impose a rigid and intolerant control over the future of their children. Any believer in
tolerance, like any believer in democracy, must favour the provision and protection of a
liberal education. To favour or allow other kinds, whereby some youngsters are excluded
from liberal education, is to subvert the very roots of democracy and tolerance.
In order to exercise the function of providing and defending liberal education the
state must employ administrative officials and, of course, liberal educators—that is to
say, teachers who see themselves and are seen by others to be liberal educators. My final
chapter will be concerned with the role of such teachers.
11
Teachers, assessment and accountability
The theme of this my concluding chapter is a simple one. It is to argue that teachers in
a system of state-provided general and compulsory education should owe their major
professional loyalty to the ideals of a liberal education as laid out here, and have the
capacity, training and education to practise the methods and strategies of liberal education.
It is, secondly, to claim that examinations, assessments and other testing procedures
in schools should primarily be to monitor and evaluate the general achievement of the
objectives of liberal education, and to serve the diagnostic purposes of such an education,
rather than to serve the selective purposes of employers and higher education. Thirdly, the
chapter will argue that a moral accountability model which stresses the autonomy of the
teacher is appropriately applied to teachers as liberal educators, rather than a conception of
accountability in which teachers are seen as employed simply to serve the needs of society
as perceived variably from time to time by governments and other providing agencies.
Chapter 1
Introduction—theory and education
1 K.R.Popper, Conjectures and Refutations: The Growth of Scientific Knowledge, London,
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1963 and later editions.
2 P.H.Hirst, Educational Theory, in J.W.Tibble (ed.), The Study of Education, London, Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1966, p. 48.
3 P.H.Hirst, op.cit, p. 55.
Chapter 2
Education and its justification
1 A.Quinton, The Nature of Things, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973, p. 144.
2 S.I.Benn and R.S.Peters, Social Principles and the Democratic State, London, Allen & Unwin,
1959, ch. 15.
3 See T.K.Abbott’s translation of Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason, London, Longmans, 1909,
p. 69: ‘In the order of efficient causes we assume ourselves free, in order that in the order of ends
we may conceive ourselves as subject to moral law…freedom and self-legislation of will are
both autonomy.’
4 For a clear exposition, see B.Magee, Popper, London, Woburn Press, 1974, ch. 4.
5 R.S.Peters, ‘Aims of Education—A Conceptual Inquiry’, in R.S.Peters (ed.), The Philosophy of
Education, Oxford University Press, 1973.
6 R.S.Peters, op.cit., p. 55.
7 See, for example, comments by J.Woods and W.H.Dray in R.S.Peters (ed.), op.cit.
Chapter 3
Types of education
1 Ministry of Education, Half Our Future: A Report of the Central Advisory Council for Education
(England), London, HMSO, 1963, para. 100.
2 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974, pp. 30–53.
3 P.H.Hirst, ‘Liberal Education’, in L.C.Deighton (ed.), The Encyclopedia of Education, vol. 5,
New York, Macmillan and Free Press, 1971. For Aristotle see Politica, trans. B.Jowett, Oxford,
Clarendon Press, 1921, Book VII, cc. 13–17 and Book VIII, cc. 1–7.
4 E.Fromm, The Sane Society, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1956, p. 69.
5 R.S.Peters, ‘The Justification of Education’, in R.S.Peters (ed.), The Philosophy of Education,
Oxford University Press, 1973.
6 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., pp. 30–53.
7 For an expansion of these ideas see Jonathan Bennett’s excellent little monograph, Rationality,
London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1964. See also C.Bailey, ‘Morality, reason and feeling’, in
Journal of Moral Education, vol. 9, no. 2, 1980, pp. 114–21.
8 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., p. 22.
184â•… Notes and references
Chapter 4
The justification of liberal education
1 B.Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, London, Allen & Unwin, 1961, p. 427.
2 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974, p. 43.
3 M.Wertheimer, Productive Thinking, New York, Harper, 1945.
4 B.Blanshard, op.cit., ch. 5.
5 P.H.Hirst, op.cit., p. 43.
6 Ibid., pp. 42–3.
7 B.Crittenden, Education and Social Ideals, London, Longmans, 1973, p. 49.
8 H.J.Paton, The Moral Law, London, Hutchinson, 1961, p. 88 and p. 96.
9 I.Kant, The Metaphysical Principles of Virtue, trans. James Ellington, Indianapolis, Bobbs-
Merrill, 1964, p. 108.
Chapter 5
Some preliminary ideas
1 A.O’Hear, Education, Society and Human Nature, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1981,
p. 116.
2 R.Barrow, Common Sense and the Curriculum, London, Allen & Unwin, 1976, p. 147.
3 Department of Education and Science and the Welsh Office, The School Curriculum, London,
HMSO, 1981, p. 2.
4 T.Devlin and M.Warnock, What Must We Teach?, London, Temple Smith, 1977.
5 For examples of philosophical analyses of the concept of knowledge, usually with more emphasis
on the truth condition than I have given, see I.Scheffler, The Conditions of Knowledge, Glenview,
Illinois, Scott Foresman, 1965; A.D.Woozley, Theory of Knowledge, London, Hutchinson, 1949;
and K.Lehrer, Knowledge, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1974.
6 J.S.Mill, Essay on Liberty, (ed. R.B.McCallum), Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1946, pp. 30–1.
7 Ibid., pp. 38–9.
8 M.Boden, Artificial Intelligence and Natural Man, Brighton, Harvester Press, 1977.
9 There are many convenient accounts of Piaget’s work. A good one is J.H.Flavell, The
Developmental Psychology of Jean Piaget, Princeton, Van Nostrand, 1963.
10 For accounts of the idea of coherence, see N.Rescher, The Coherence Theory of Truth, Oxford,
Clarendon Press, 1973, pp. 31–40. Less technically in B.Blanshard, The Nature of Thought,
London, Allen & Unwin, 1939, vol. 2, pp. 264–9.
11 B.Blanshard, op.cit., p. 266 footnote.
Chapter 6
Three accounts considered
1 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974, p. 43.
2 Ibid., p. 41.
3 Ibid., p. 39.
4 Ibid., p. 40.
5 Ibid., p. 39.
6 Ibid., p. 40.
7 Ibid., p. 64.
8 Ibid., p. 66.
9 Ibid., p. 85.
10 Ibid., p. 46.
Notes and referencesâ•… 185
11 Ibid., p. 46.
12 Ibid., p. 46.
13 Ibid., p. 51.
14 P.H.Hirst and R.S.Peters, The Logic of Education, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970,
p. 63.
15 P.H.Hirst, op.cit., p. 86.
16 Ibid., p. 87.
17 Hirst and Peters, op.cit., p. 63.
18 Ibid., p. 64.
19 Hirst, op.cit., p. 66.
20 For the debate mentioned, see P.H.Hirst, ‘Literature and the Fine Arts as a Unique Form of
Knowledge’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 3, no. 3, 1973, and ‘Reply to Mr. Peter
Scrimshaw’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 4, no. 1, 1974. Also P.Scrimshaw,
‘Statements, Language and Art’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 3, no. 3, 1973.
21 Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., p. 87.
22 J.R.Martin, ‘Needed: A New Paradigm for Liberal Education’, in J.F.Soltis (ed.), Philosophy and
Education, 80th Year Book, NSSE, University of Chicago Press, 1981.
23 Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., p. 96.
24 For a brilliant critique of various stages in the development of the verificationist theory of
meaning, see B.Blanshard, Reason and Analysis, London, Allen & Unwin, 1962, ch. 5.
25 L.Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans, G.E.M.Anscombe, Oxford, Basil Blackwell,
1967, pp. 1 le-12e.
26 M.Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. J.Macquarrie and E.Robinson, Oxford, Basil Blackwell,
1978, p. 209.
27 M.Heidegger, The Origin of the Work of Art’, in D.F.Krell (ed.), Martin Heidegger: Basic
Writings, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978, pp. 143–88.
28 P.Phenix, Realms of Meaning, New York, McGraw-Hill, 1964, p. 21.
29 Ibid., p. 21.
30 Ibid., p. 21.
31 Ibid., p. 25.
32 Ibid., p. 25.
33 Ibid., p. 25.
34 Ibid., p. 24.
35 Ibid., p. 252.
36 Ibid., p. 25.
37 Ibid., p. 28.
38 Ibid., p. 277.
39 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., p. 62.
40 Ibid., p. 61.
41 Ibid., p. 62.
42 P.Phenix, op.cit., p. 7.
43 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, op.cit., p. 63.
44 Ibid., pp. 63–4.
45 P.Phenix, op.cit., preface.
46 Ibid., preface.
47 Ibid., p. 5.
48 Ibid., p. 7.
49 Ibid., p. 7.
50 Ibid., p. 270.
186â•… Notes and references
51 J.P.White, Towards a Compulsory Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973.
52 J.P.White, The Aims of Education Restated, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982.
53 P.S.Wilson, Interest, Discipline and Education, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1971.
54 J.P.White, Towards a Compulsory Curriculum, op.cit., p. 20.
55 Ibid, p. 21.
56 Ibid., pp. 21–2.
57 Ibid., p. 22.
58 Ibid., p. 21.
59 Ibid., p. 23.
60 Ibid., p. 26.
61 Ibid., pp. 27–9.
62 In connection with the issue of compulsory competitive games, see C.Bailey, ‘Games, Winning
and Education’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 5, no. 1, 1975.
63 J.P.White, Towards a Compulsory Curriculum, op.cit., p. 35.
64 Ibid., p. 55.
65 Ibid., p. 57.
66 J.P.White, The Aims of Education Restated, op.cit., 1982, p. 52.
67 Ibid., p. 124.
68 Ibid., p. 122.
69 J.Kovesi, Moral Notions, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1967, ch. 5.
Chapter 7
The content of a liberal education
1 M.Oakeshott, ‘Education: the Engagement and its Frustration’, in The Proceedings of the
Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain (now the ‘Journal of Philosophy of Education’),
vol. 5, no. 1, 1971. As will be seen I have made much use of the illuminating ideas of Michael
Oakeshott in this chapter. He, of course, bears no responsibility for the use I have made of his
ideas, which he himself might well consider a misuse.
2 M.Oakeshott, On Human Conduct, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1975, pp. 12–13.
3 Ibid., p. 55.
4 Ibid., p. 59.
5 Ibid., p. 59.
6 See, of course, the many works of Piaget himself. Those not familiar with these might consult
J.H.Flavell, The Developmental Psychology of Jean Piaget, Princeton, Van Nostrand, 1963, and/
or M.Boden, Piaget, Brighton, Harvester Press, 1979.
7 A brief summary and convenient bibliography of Edward de Bono’s work is to be found in his
About Think, London, Jonathan Cape, 1972.
8 The basic ideas are to be found in J.S.Bruner, Towards a Theory of Instruction, Cambridge,
Massachusetts, Harvard University Press, 1966; but all Bruner’s writings contribute greatly to
the ideas of liberal education.
9 M.Oakeshott, On Human Conduct, op.cit., p. 5.
10 For the thrust of the views I am opposing here see P.S.Wilson, Interest, Discipline and Education,
London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1971, and M.Bonnett, ‘Authenticity and Education’, in
Journal of Philosophy of Education, vol. 12, 1978.
11 For a discussion of possible approaches to political education see B.Crick and A.Porter (eds),
Political Education and Political Literacy, London, Longman, 1978. There has been much,
perhaps overmuch, discussion of indoctrination in the literature of philosophy of education.
Notes and referencesâ•… 187
See, for example, I.A.Snook (ed.), Concepts of Indoctrination, London, Routledge & Kegan
Paul, 1972.
12 For a recent report on the teaching of mathematics see the Report of the Committee of Inquiry
into the Teaching of Mathematics in Schools under the Chairmanship of Dr W.H.Cockcroft,
Mathematics Counts, London, HMSO, 1982.
13 For suggestions of a liberal view of moral education see C.Bailey, ‘Moral Education’, in
R.Whitfield (ed.), The Disciplines of the Curriculum, New York, McGraw-Hill, 1971. A slightly
revised version is to be found in C.Bailey, ‘Moral Education in a Pluralistic Society’, in Epworth
Review, vol. 5, no. 2, May 1978.
14 For a good recent advocacy of the importance of the arts in schools see the report of an advisory
committee under the chairmanship of Peter Brinson, The Arts in Schools, London, Calouste
Gulbenkian Foundation, 1982.
15 C.Bailey, ‘Games, Winning and Education’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 5, no. 1,
1975.
16 M.Oakeshott, On Human Conduct, op.cit., p. 13.
17 Interesting thoughts concerning man’s relationship to his technology are to be found in, for example,
E.F.Schumacher, Small is Beautiful, London, Sphere Books, 1974; and in a more complex way
in M.Heidegger, ‘The Question Concerning Technology’, in D.F.Krell (ed.), Martin Heidegger:
Basic Writings, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978. For the two examples of proposals for
science content mentioned in the text see R.Ingle and A.Jennings, Science in Schools—Which
Way Now?, University of London Institute of Education, 1981, Appendix 5.1: and Department of
Education and Science, Curriculum 11–16, London, HMSO, 1979, pp. 28–9.
18 P.S.Wilson, op.cit.
19 M.Bonnett, op.cit.
Chapter 8
The methods of a liberal education
1 See this work, section 4.5.
2 A.Quinton, The Nature of Things, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973, ch. 6.
3 B.Blanshard, Reason and Goodness, London, Allen & Unwin, 1961, ch. 15.
4 A.Quinton, op.cit., pp. 143–9.
5 For a feel of the recent debates see I.A.Snook (ed.), Concepts of Indoctrination, London,
Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1972.
6 See J.P.White, ‘Indoctrination and intentions’, in I.A.Snook (ed.), op.cit.
7 Ministry of Education, Half Our Future, London, HMSO, 1963.
8 S.Brown, J.Fauvel and R.Finnegan, Conceptions of Inquiry, London, Methuen in association
with the Open University Press, 1981. Apart from the reference I have made this is a most useful
book for liberal educators.
9 R.M.Travers (ed.), Second Handbook of Research on Teaching, Chicago, Rand McNally, 1973.
10 T.F.Green, The Activities of Teaching, New York, McGraw-Hill, 1971, ch. 7.
11 Ibid., p. 7.
12 J.Passmore, The Philosophy of Teaching, London, Duckworth, 1980, p. 210.
13 There is a helpful selection of Dewey’s writings in F.W.Garforth (ed.), John Dewey: Selected
Educational Writings, London, Heinemann, 1966.
14 J.Passmore, op.cit., p. 210.
15 I.Kant, The Metaphysical Principles of Virtue, (Part II of ‘The Metaphysics of Morals’), trans.
James Ellington, Indianapolis, Bobbs-Merrill, 1964, p. 128.
188â•… Notes and references
16 C.Bailey and D.Bridges, Mixed A bility Grouping: A Philosophical Perspective, London, Allen
& Unwin, 1983, esp. chs 3, 4 and 5.
17 This emphasis on caring for what is worthwhile is well caught in the writings of R.S.Peters. See
especially his ‘Education as Initiation’, in R.D.Archambault (ed.), Philosophical Analysis and
Education, New York, Humanities Press, 1965, p. 110:
A hallmark of a good school is the extent to which it kindles in its pupils a desire to go on
with things into which they have been initiated when the pressures are off and when there
is no extrinsic reason for engaging in them.
18 J.Passmore, op.cit., p. 184.
19 B.Blanshard, op.cit., ch. 15.
20 R.M.Hare, Language of Morals, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1952, and Freedom and Reason,
Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1963.
21 C.Bailey, Theories of Moral Development and Moral Education, unpublished Ph.D. thesis,
University of London, 1974, chs 10 and 12.
22 M.Hoffman, ‘Moral Development’, in P.Mussen (ed.), Carmichael’s Manual of Child Psychology,
New York, John Wiley, 1970, vol. 2, pp. 261–360.
23 J.Klein, Samples from English Cultures, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965, especially
vol. 2, Child Rearing Practices.
Chapter 9
The challenge of economic utility
1 Mr James Callaghan, then Prime Minister, made such charges in his speech at Ruskin College,
Oxford, on 18 October 1976. The charge that schools pay insufficient attention to respect
for industry and wealth creation was made by Mrs Shirley Williams, then Secretary of State
for Education, in 1977 and more stridently by Conservative politicians and by groups like
Understanding British Industry ever since.
2 Department of Education and Science, Teacher Training and Preparation for Working Life,
HMSO, 1982, p. 1.
3 Ibid., p. 1.
4 Department of Education and Science, Education in Schools: A Consultative Document, London,
HMSO, 1977, p. 7. For a criticism of this publication see C.Bailey, ‘A Strange Debate: Some
Comments on the Green Paper’, in Cambridge Journal of Education, vol. 8, no. 1, 1978.
5 DES, Education in Schools, p. 7.
6 Ibid., p. 2.
7 Department of Education and Science, A Framework for the School Curriculum, London, HMSO,
1980, p. 8.
Notes and referencesâ•… 189
8 Department of Education and Science, HMI Series: Matters for Discussion 11, A View of the
Curriculum, London, HMSO, 1980, p. 15.
9 Department of Education and Science, Circular No. 6/81, 1 October 1981.
10 Department of Education and Science, The School Curriculum, London, HMSO, 1981, p. 3.
11 Ibid., pp. 12–13.
12 Ibid., p. 13.
13 Ibid., p. 18.
14 Schools Council, Working Paper 70: The Practical Curriculum, London, Methuen Educational,
1981.
15 Report by Mark Jackson, Times Educational Supplement, London, 19 November 1982, p. 6.
16 Further Education Curriculum Review and Development Unit, A Basis For Choice, London,
HMSO, 1979.
17 Ibid., p. 23.
18 A consistent critic of the behaviourist view was Lawrence Stenhouse. See particularly his An
Introduction to Curriculum Research and Development, London, Heinemann, 1975, chs 5, 6 and
7. For a particular criticism of skills approaches in social education see B.Davies, From Social
Education to Social and Life Skills Training: In Whose Interest?, Leicester, National Youth
Bureau, 1979.
19 Further Education Curriculum Review and Development Unit, Vocational Preparation, London,
HMSO, 1981, p. 36.
20 Report by Mark Jackson, Times Educational Supplement, London, 3 December 1982.
21 ‘Times Educational Supplement’, 10 December 1982.
22 ‘Times Educational Supplement’, 18 February 1983, p. 13.
23 Council for Science and Society, New Technology: Society, Employment and Skill, published by
the Council, London, 1981, pp. 7–8.
24 To confirm this brief assertion readers might look at: J.Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Oxford,
Clarendon Press, 1972; A.Gewirth, Reason and Morality, Chicago, University of Chicago Press,
1978; and B.Ackerman, Social Justice in the Liberal State, New Haven, Yale University Press,
1980.
25 E.Fromm, The Sane Society, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1956.
26 R.S.Peters, Ethics and Education, London, Allen & Unwin, 1966, pp. 225–226.
27 Council for Science and Society, op.cit., p. 89.
28 DES, The School Curriculum, p. 3.
29 Council for Science and Society, op.cit., p. 77.
30 Schools Council, op.cit., p. 22.
31 Ibid., p. 22.
32 Ibid., p. 22.
33 Council for Science and Society, op.cit., pp. 23–4.
34 R.Jonathan, ‘The manpower service model of education’, in Cambridge Journal of Education,
vol. 13, no. 2, 1983, p. 9.
35 Schools Council, op.cit., p. 23.
36 Ibid., p. 23.
37 R.Jonathan, op.cit., pp. 8–9.
38 B.Davies, op.cit., p. 11.
39 Ibid., p. 10.
40 R.Jonathan, op.cit., p. 8.
41 Ibid., p. 9. The whole of Ruth Jonathan’s paper is an excellent case against the trends criticized
in this chapter. For another form of criticism against skills approaches see P.Atkinson, T.L.Rees,
190â•… Notes and references
D.Shore and H.Williamson, ‘Social and Life Skills: The Latest Case of Compensatory Education’,
in T.Rees and P.Atkinson (eds), Youth Unemployment and State Intervention, London, Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1982.
Chapter 10
The challenge of relativism, ideology and the state
1 M.F.D.Young (ed.), Knowledge and Control, London, Collier-Macmillan, 1971.
2 A label used by many following the publication of Knowledge and Control; see for example
D.A.Gorbutt, ‘The New Sociology of Education’, in Education for Teaching, November 1972.
3 T.S.Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1970.
4 B.Bernstein, ‘On the Classification and Framing of Educational Knowledge’, in M.F.D.Young
(ed.), op.cit.
5 G.M.Esland, ‘Teaching and Learning and the Organization of Knowledge’, in M.F.D.Young
(ed.), op.cit.
6 M.F.D.Young (ed.), op.cit., p. 7.
7 Ibid., p. 23.
8 Ibid., p. 75.
9 See P.L.Berger and T.Luckman, The Social Construction of Reality, Harmondsworth, Penguin,
1967.
10 `See C.W.Mills, The Sociological Imagination, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1959; and I.Horowitz
(ed.), Power, Politics and People: The Collected Papers of C.Wright Mills, London, Oxford
University Press, 1969.
11 T.S.Kuhn, op.cit.
12 M.F.D.Young (ed.), op.cit., p. 77.
13 On general philosophical issues of subjectivity, objectivity and relativism see: B.R.Wilson (ed.),
Rationality, Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1970; R.Trigg, Reason and Commitment, Cambridge
University Press, 1973; M.Hollis and S.Lukes (eds), Rationality and Relativism, Oxford, Basil
Blackwell, 1982; and J.W. Meiland and M.Krausz (eds), Relativism, Cognitive and Moral, Notre
Dame and London, University of Notre Dame Press, 1982.
14 P.H.Hirst, Knowledge and the Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1974, p. 44.
15 Ibid., p. 92.
16 See K.R.Popper, Objective Knowledge, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1973, especially chs 3 and 4.
17 See almost any recent work on mainstream epistemology; e.g. K.Lehrer, Knowledge, Oxford,
Clarendon Press, 1974; and R.Nozick, Philosophical Explanations, Oxford, Clarendon Press,
1981, chapter on Knowledge and Skepticism.
18 A classic is B.L.Whorf, Language, Thought and Reality, edited with an introduction by J.B.Carroll,
Cambridge, Massachusetts, MIT Press, 1956. A useful and more recent work with an extensive
bibliography is R.Needham, Belief, Language, and Experience, Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1972.
19 For a proper expansion of this over-simple summary see F.Copleston, A History of Philosophy,
London, Burns Oates, 1963, vol. VII, part I, Post-Kantian Idealist Systems.
20 A.Schutz and T.Luckman, The Structures of the Life-World, trans. R.M.Zaner and H.T.Engelhardt
Jnr, London, Heinemann, 1974, p. 3.
21 M.F.D.Young (ed.), op.cit., p. 3.
22 Ibid., p. 5.
23 See Marcuse’s account of ‘Technological rationality’ in ch. 5 of his One Dimensional Man,
London, Sphere, 1968.
Notes and referencesâ•… 191
24 See L.Althusser, ‘Freud and Lacan’, in Lenin and Philosophy, trans. B.Brewster, London, New
Left Books, 1971. See also references in R.Sharp, Knowledge, Ideology and the Politics of
Schooling, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980, pp. 98, 106 and 115.
25 L.Althusser, ‘Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses’, in Lenin and Philosophy, op.cit.,
p. 146.
26 K.Harris, Education and Knowledge, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979, p. 164.
27 L.Althusser, op.cit., p. 147.
28 K.Harris, op.cit.; see for example p. 129: ‘education, given the circumstances of a liberal
democratic society, is concerned to create easily satisfied “pigs”; and it is concerned to promote
a pernicious type of ignorance rather than to overthrow ignorance.’
29 See as perhaps a naive example of this: G.Murdock, ‘The Politics of Culture’, in D.Holly (ed.),
Education or Domination, London, Arrow, 1974.
30 R.Williams, ‘Base and superstructure in Marxist cultural theory’, in New Left Review, 82,
December 1973. Reprinted in R.Dale, G.Esland and M.MacDonald (eds), Schooling and
Capitalism, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul with the Open University Press, 1976, p. 205
(page refs to Dale et al.).
31 Ibid., p. 205.
32 Ibid., p. 205.
33 Ibid., p. 205.
34 K.Harris, op.cit., p. 154.
35 L.Althusser, op.cit., p. 148.
36 See S.Baron et al. (Education Group: Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies), Unpopular
Education, London, Hutchinson in association with the Centre for Contemporary Cultural
Studies, University of Birmingham, 1981, pp. 39–40.
37 R.Sharp, Knowledge, Ideology and the Politics of Schooling, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul,
1980, p. 158.
38 N.Poulantzas, Political Power and Social Classes, trans. T.O’Hagan, London, New Left Books
and Sheed & Ward, 1973, p. 215.
39 M.W.Apple, Ideology and Curriculum, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979, p. 128.
40 R.Williams, op.cit., pp. 206–7.
41 D.Reynolds and M.Sullivan, ‘Towards a New Socialist Sociology of Education’, in L.Barton,
R.Meighan and S.Walker (eds), Schooling, Ideology and the Curriculum, Barcombe, Lewes,
Falmer Press, 1980, p. 178.
42 A.Gramsci, Selections from Prison Notebooks, edited and translated by Q.Hoare and G.N.Smith,
London, Lawrence & Wishart, 1971, p. 9.
43 N.Poulantzas, op.cit., p. 207.
44 R.Sharp, op.cit., p. 145.
45 Ibid., p. 167.
46 Ibid., p. 167.
47 Ibid., p. 167.
48 H.Entwistle, Antonio Gramsci: Conservative Schooling and Radical Politics, London, Routledge
& Kegan Paul, 1979, p. 95.
49 N.Keddie, ‘Classroom Knowledge’, in M.F.D.Young (ed.) op.cit.
50 D.Reynolds and M.Sullivan, op.cit., p. 179.
51 Ibid., p. 187. My emphasis.
52 G.Whitty, Ideology, Politics and Curriculum, Unit 8 of Course E353: Society, Education and the
State, Milton Keynes, Open University Press, 1981, p. 10.
53 R.Williams, op.cit., pp. 206–7.
192â•… Notes and references
54 For a careful consideration of the issue of independent schooling see B.Cohen, Education and the
Individual, London, Allen & Unwin, 1981, ch. 4. See also A.N.Gilkes, Independent Education,
London, Victor Gollancz, 1957. For the de-schooling arguments see the useful collection of
articles made by Ian Lister, Deschooling: A Reader, Cambridge University Press, 1974. See
also I.D.Illich, Deschooling Society, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973; E.Reimer, School is Dead,
Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1971; and P.Goodman, Compulsory Miseducation, Harmondsworth,
Penguin, 1971.
55 B.Ackerman, Social Justice in the Liberal State, New Haven and London, Yale University Press,
1980, ch. 5.
56 H.Entwistle, op.cit., pp. 91–2.
57 F.A.Hayek, The Constitution of Liberty, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960, chs. 7:
e.g. p. 106:
The dogmatic democrat feels, in particular, that any current majority ought to have the
right to decide what powers it has and how to exercise them, while the liberal regards it as
important that the powers of any temporary majority be limited by long term principles.
Chapter 11
Teachers, assessment and accountability
1 As witness the fate of the Schools Council ‘N and F’ proposals which involved lengthy and
thorough study and research, would have widened the curriculum for most 16–18-year-old
pupils, but were rejected mainly because of opposition from universities. See Schools Council
Working Paper 60: Examinations at 18+: the N and F Studies, London, Evans Brothers and
Methuen Educational, 1978. As an example of the opposition see University of Cambridge
Local Examinations Syndicate, The N and F Proposals: Comments on The Report to the Schools
Council, May 1978.
2 See, for example, H.Taba, Curriculum Development, New York, Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962,
ch. 19; D.K.Wheeler, Curriculum Process, University of London Press, 1967, ch. 10; D.Pratt,
Curriculum Design and Development, New York, Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1980, part 3.
3 L.Stenhouse, An Introduction to Curriculum Research and Development, London, Heinemann,
1975, chs 5, 6 and 7.
4 See, for example, A.N.Oppenheim, Questionnaire Design and Attitude Measurement, London,
Heinemann, 1966.
5 By discussion, for example.
6 For an extensive bibliography see J.Freeman, H.J.Butcher and T.Christie, Creativity: A Selective
View of Research, 2nd edition, London, Society for Research in Higher Education, 1971.
7 On criterion-referenced assessment see S.Brown, What Do They Know? A Review of Criterion-
Referenced Assessment, Edinburgh, HMSO, 1980; and S.Brown, Introducing Criterion-
Referenced Assessment: Teachers’ Views, Stirling Educational Monographs no. 7, Department of
Education, University of Stirling, 1980.
8 For reasons why this should be so see C.Bailey, ‘Morality, reason and feeling’, in Journal of
Moral Education, vol. 9, no. 2, 1980, pp. 114–21.
9 And for a more detailed treatment of this idea see C.Bailey, Theories of Moral Development and
Moral Education: A Philosophical Critique, unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of London,
1974, chs 5 and 9.
10 C.Bailey, ‘Education, accountability and the preparation of teachers’, in Cambridge Journal of
Education, vol. 13, no. 2, 1983. Some material in this chapter draws on this article.
Index